What Have We Here
by Mazanti
Summary: Origin stories as a prequel to Ostagar with all origins recruited into the Wardens. What if Duncan had more time as Warden Commander? What if Soldier's Peak were being renovated, utilized? What if Alistair were freed from the Chantry by both Duncan and Cailan? What if Loghain remained the honorable, irascible Hero of River Dane? AU, character deaths. BioWare owns all.
1. Orzammar: Castes Aside

Faren Brosca was fairly practical, for a casteless in Dust Town. He had a drunken monkey of a mother and a gorgeous little sister, Rica. He did what it took to survive even if that meant working for that slug, Beraht, and his Carta full of slugs while Rica trolled the rarified air of the Diamond Quarter as a noble hunter. Beraht had paid for Rica's education, her clothes and her jewelry so she would be attractive to the male nobles. All she had to do was hook the right noble and bear him a son. The caste of an infant was determined by the caste of the same sex parent. Faren and his mother and "uncle" Beraht could move up as "guests" of the noble family. He hated himself for letting her do it, but had to admit Rica was pretty good at it…if Beraht would just quit rushing her.

"I met a very special man, Faren," Rica said as she came in late. She looked tired but happy as she undid the full-length cloak that got her past the sods on the streets outside their door. Her attire was fine in the Commons or the Diamond Quarter. It would get her robbed and killed in Dust Town.

Mother, without lifting her head from the table strewn with several empty bottles of the local bootleg rotgut and moldy bits of uneaten food, mumbled, "Unless he's a high and mighty lord, you'd better not spread your legs for 'im."

Faren had just returned from a distasteful job for Beraht, so he was in a pretty foul mood. On a good day, his mother could make him want to tear out the braids in his wiry red beard. This was a bad day. He swept the bottles and garbage from the table, grabbed his mother's arm and led her to her room. Once there, he opened the door and shoved her inside enough to be able to slam the door shut. He heard a table fall over, but had no inclination to go back to see if she was on the floor or not. As he stood to calm himself down before going back to talk to Rica, he heard a loud snore from inside his mother's room. She probably did fall on the floor…and then passed out.

Rica stood in the archway to the front room, backlit by the only strong light source in their small apartment, the fireplace. She stared at him with those large brown eyes. "Faren, she is still our mother."

He huffed and ran his hands through his dark red hair. He just been home long enough to unbraid his hair, so he had a lot of hair he could grab…and try not to pull out. He motioned for Rica to sit at the now cleared off table. "Tell me about him."

She blushed, another thing she learned to do. Faren couldn't recall her ever blushing when they were children. "I hesitate to say anything too soon because it might all fall through, but he is a high-placed noble and he's nice to me."

"Does he have a name?" Faren asked. When she kept silent, unwilling to answer him, he said, "Fine. Just let me know if he hurts you." He shrugged. "Don't have a clue what I'd do about it, but tell me anyhow."

Rica looked at him and then laughed. She pulled him up out of his chair and hugged him soundly. "You're a good brother, Faren." She pulled back. "I don't think you'll have anything to worry about, though."

Faren raised an eyebrow of disbelief, but smiled. "Leske and I have another job for Beraht tomorrow around twelve strokes…at the Proving, of all places." It was one of those jobs that Faren took to keep Beraht off Rica's ass, so he would leave her alone, give her more time. He only hoped this job wouldn't land him in prison.

Rica's pretty face scrunched up into a worried frown, but she didn't say anything. She'd told him plenty of times that she knew…and hated…what her brother had to do. She took off her shawl and started to take down the braided bun in her bright red hair. "The Proving for the Grey Wardens?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, surprise evident on his craggy face. No matter how much Beraht had paid for Rica's education, the girl had common sense and was smarter than all of the Carta put together. "How'd you know about that?"

With a twinkle in her eye, Rica only smiled and said, "I told you he was a high-placed noble, didn't I?" She reached into her clothes chest and rummaged around for a nightgown and her soaps and lotions. Then, she grabbed a towel and headed to the door of their small bathing room, another gift from Beraht to make sure Rica smelled nice.

"What? He a deshyr or somethin'?" Faren asked as he followed her. This guy sounded like just the mark Beraht was looking for, but he also sounded like someone that Rica might be falling for. Faren worried that this "special man" would end up disappointing her.

"Good night, Faren." Rica giggled as she closed the curtain to the bath and started to hum as she took her bath and got ready for bed. Faren soon smelled the aroma of the lavender soap. It was a nice change from the vomit of the Dust Town streets and their mother's breath.

He sighed and shrugged as he took off his leathers and spent a few minutes cleaning and oiling them. Even with the entry passes Beraht gave them, he doubted the Proving guards would let in a brand with dried blood on his armor. Then, he slipped under the old, worn blanket he'd had since he was a kid and went to sleep fast. Tomorrow was gonna be a busy day.

* * *

Gorim opened his eyes, yawned and stretched, until he realized that Sereda was still asleep on his shoulder. He grimaced and tried to shake her awake. She only moaned something unintelligible and tried to snuggle closer to him. "Princess," he said firmly, "we've got to get up before someone finds us in bed." Sereda looked beautiful to Gorim even with her rumpled dark red hair and crusted drool on the side of her mouth. She sighed heavily and opened her gorgeous brown eyes.

After only a couple moments, she awoke fully. "By the Stone, Gorim!" she cried as she threw off the covers and headed to her already laid out armor and undergarments, leaving Gorim to chuckle as he did the same.

Neither of them was a heavy sleeper…side effect of their warrior training and many treks into the Deep Roads to keep back the darkspawn: the misshapen brood of monsters that mothers threatened their children with — or the result of some diabolical topsider sin—only the Ancestors knew. All any dwarf knew was that the darkspawn were the bane of all dwarven existence.

So, coming fully awake and donning armor usually took a very short time.

However, both of them awakening in the same bed was greatly frowned upon. Sereda was of the Noble caste, and worse, she was the daughter of the King. "Princess" was more than a term of endearment to Gorim. He was a member of the Warrior caste. Both were respected and acclaimed, but the caste walls were built stone by stone over the centuries to be impenetrable.

"Of all days to oversleep," Sereda mumbled as she buckled her breastplate.

"Let's just hope your brothers haven't found out yet," Gorim grinned. "For the sake of my hide."

Just as Sereda finished combing her hair into place, her bedroom door slammed open. "I knew I should have knocked sooner," Bhelen, Sereda's little brother said. "Dragging my sister out of bed isn't part of your duties, Gorim." He narrowed his eyes at the warrior. "Or dragging her into bed."

Gorim cleared his throat. "I assure you, Prince Bhelen, there was no dragging either direction."

Bhelen stared at Gorim for a moment and then seemed to dismiss any other comments he may have had…for the moment. Turning to Sereda, he said, "Trian's on the warpath this morning, sister. Might want to stay out of his way."

She sighed and frowned. "First, you didn't knock. You barged right in like you always do. And second, I need to go to the Proving, Bhelen, and I know he'll be there, too."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," Bhelen said with one of his more insincere smiles. Gorim never liked either of Sereda's brothers but he had to respect how they both played the game of deceit and intrigue inherent to the Noble caste. Must be all the inbreeding over the centuries. He smiled at his Princess. She was different. After King Endrin returned to the Stone, maybe the Ancestors would bless Orzammar with her as Queen. Many noble houses felt the same way as there was no guarantee the Assembly would put the eldest heir on the throne. Gorim just had to see to it that she survived the machinations of her brothers until then.

She strapped on the last of her armor and smiled at Bhelen. "Thanks for the warning. This Proving is for Warden Commander Duncan as well as to celebrate clearing the Aeducan Thaig. I hear the construction of a barrier door beyond the thaig is almost complete unless the Artisan class has some other complaint about how drab it looks. If Trian wants to be a pain in my back side today, so be it." She looked at Gorim. "Give me a bit of time in the throne room with father and the Warden Commander and I'll meet you in the entrance hall."

Gorim bowed his assent as she left the room and began to leave himself, but Bhelen stopped him. "I'm going to overlook that I found out you weren't at call this morning, Gorim, but you must be more discrete. Trian's well aware of her popularity with the other noble families. I wouldn't put it past him to try something to discredit or get rid of her and pin it on you."

"I will do my best as always, Your Highness," Gorim replied with a nod and then looked directly at Bhelen. "I assure you that nothing will happen to your sister and severe consequences will happen to whomever tries something." Then, Gorim's face formed into a frown. "How far would Trian really go?"

Bhelen gave no indication that he caught the implied threat. He just sighed. "Just watch out for poisoned daggers and ambushes."

"He'd actually kill Sereda?!" Gorim whispered as he stepped closer to the younger prince. Dwarven ascension was usually fraught with political intrigue and scheming but Trian just never struck Gorim as that vicious…or that smart. Sadly, though, Trian might pay for someone else to actually kill his competition for him…and pin it on Gorim.

"He wants to be the next king. Badly. What do you think he'd be capable of?" Bhelen glanced toward the door. "I need to attend father and Sereda. Just watch her back. Like you always do." The last part was said with a sneer that meant it wasn't a compliment to Gorim's vigilance in protecting his charge.

Instead of going directly to the entry, Gorim stopped off in the storeroom and double-checked King Endrin's supply of poisons. Every Orzammar noble house had such a supply. Most of the bottles and vials were dusted with a heavy layer of disuse. A worried frown creased his forehead as he noticed one of the vials missing, a vial of the poison called "Noble Killer". It could have been stolen years ago or it could have been taken to be used in Sereda's drink at an opportune time. When he heard an argument break out in the kitchen down the hall, he feared he might be caught staring at the poison supply. So, he quietly left the storeroom and slipped into the entrance hall to wait for Sereda.

She didn't come out. It had been long enough to wait as Gorim nodded to the throne room door guard and slipped quietly into the back of the room. Things looked to be wrapping up from the breakfast feast before the day's celebrations. Bhelen was already gone and Sereda was standing next to Commander Duncan and they both were having some sort of serious discussion with King Endrin. Gorim couldn't hear the conversation but Sereda soon noticed him and nodded. The king walked away from the discussion with a decidedly unhappy look while Sereda looked very happy. Gorim didn't know the warden well enough to read him.

"Let's head to the Provings," Sereda said as she walked up. She read the questioning look on Gorim's face correctly. "We'll talk on the way."

While they were pretending to shop at the handpicked, today-only merchant stalls in the Diamond Quarter, Gorim leaned close. "Okay, what's going on? Whatever it is, your father didn't seem happy," he whispered.

Sereda walked over to a railing overlooking the great lava pool and the bridge to the Provings down below. She turned quickly to Gorim with a worried look. "What do you think of the Grey Wardens, Gorim?"

"Why? Did Duncan say something he'll regret?" Gorim asked as he looked around for the Warden Commander.

"At ease, Gorim," Sereda chuckled. "Duncan and his wardens are here to investigate the cause of an increased darkspawn presence on the surface. They're afraid it might be signaling a Blight and want to check the Deep Roads beyond the Aeducan Thaig before the barrier door is finished. Come on. It's an honest question. What do you think?"

Gorim pondered the answer to that one. "I think they're an honorable group. They know what we go through down here. And, I've always thought Duncan was to be given respect for his efforts."

Sereda's smile gave Gorim pause. She turned to look out over the railing again. "Would you ever consider becoming a Grey Warden?" She asked the question with a lot more trepidation than she'd ever asked a question of Gorim before.

Gorim laughed. "Only if you did, Princess."

When she didn't laugh back, he got really, really serious. "You? Joining the…?! Have you lost your mind?" he hissed. "You're the daughter of the king, second in line for the throne, and definitely in line to rule the new thaig. You'd be abandoning your responsibilities and your caste. You'd be a surfacer, sky-touched, stone-blind." He turned her to face him. "Tell me you're not considering that."

She only responded with, "Did you mean it when you said you'd join if I did?"

The overlook was starting to get crowded and their conversation was garnering too much nosey noble notice. He looked into her eyes for several long minutes. "I…you…we'll talk after the Proving." Then he swept his hand indicating that she should go first.

She quickly made her way past all the vendors and down the newly outfitted elevator to the Commons. There she and Gorim ran into Duncan and his wardens. "Gorim, this is Commander Duncan of the Grey Wardens. Duncan, I'd like you to meet my second, Gorim."

Gorim plastered on a pleasant face but inside he was a jumble of worries and fears. "Warden Commander, a…pleasure to meet you."

Duncan didn't miss the hesitation. "Well met, Gorim. We're all very honored to be here today." When Gorim glanced at the other four wardens, Duncan continued, "These gentlemen are here to go with me into the Deep Roads after the Proving has concluded." He gestured to another dwarf. "This is my second, Senior Warden Gavin, and…"

"Gavin Bemot?!" Gorim interrupted. "I'd heard you left for the surface…what, 10 years ago?...but I could never shake out the fact from rumor."

Gavin merely shook his head. "Well, the truth of the matter was that I left before my father exiled me to the Deep Roads." He sighed. "I kinda lost my head when he killed the brand I was seeing." He added in mumble, "That girl had more sense than all of the nobles…" At Duncan clearing his throat and Bemot finally noticing Sereda's bemused smile, he added, "…all the nobles I'd ever met." We smiled at Sereda. "I don't think I'd ever met you, Princess."

"Well, now you have, Gavin," she said quietly. "I hope I'll earn your respect over time."

Then, Duncan turned to the three humans and introduced them: two of them looked like seasoned warriors, Carsten and Orich, but the third, grinning like a man after his first tumble in the bedchamber, was a new warden by the name of Alistair. He looked familiar to Gorim, but then all humans did look similar. If he was a new warden, then it was highly unlikely that Gorim had seen him.

They all made their way to the honorary seating above the Proving arena, but before they could sit down, Duncan took Gorim aside. "All right, Gorim, you've been glaring at me and I'd like to know why."

Caught in his inattention to propriety, Gorim cleared his throat. "Warden Commander," he began quietly while looking around to make sure no one would be listening, "I'll speak plainly. You cannot take the Princess away from Orzammar." He leaned in even closer to Duncan and added, "She's the one person who stands a chance of maintaining any kind of peace after her father returns to the Stone. If she goes with you, she won't be able to return and do that."

Duncan smiled warmly. "And, what of the Princess's desires, Gorim?" He also leaned in closely. "She has told me that she wishes to be a Grey Warden and even the King realizes how important it is to have more dwarven representation amongst the Grey Wardens, especially so if we discover that an Archdemon has risen and the land will be hit by another Blight."

Gorim considered Duncan's unfortunately accurate words. "All right," he replied. "Let me and the Princess go with you into the Deep Roads…I can't believe I'm offering this…and if you do find out that we have a Blight, you will not only have her as a new Grey Warden, but me as well."

Duncan frowned. "As I understand it, you and the Princess will be leading a sweep of the nearby Deep Roads to clear the area of darkspawn and lay traps and alarms for future incursions."

After pondering that for a moment, Gorim said, "I'll talk to her about it and ask Frandlin Ivo to lead that group. His house is the one that actually made the plans for the alarm system. I don't think it will be a problem, other than dealing with the nobles who think it beneath the Princess to lead a group of Grey Wardens into the Deep Roads."

"And, if we find no evidence of an Archdemon," he surmised, "then you would like to try to talk the Princess out of coming with me?"

That wasn't exactly what Gorim wanted, but he knew it would be the best he would get. He nodded, reluctantly, at the unspoken statement that she would want to join the Wardens even if there weren't an Archdemon.

Duncan chuckled. "I just made a similar agreement with King Endrin, Gorim." He stood to his full height. "And, I will tell you what I told him: I will not use the Right of Conscription on Princess Sereda. If she decides to stay here, I will not force her to go with me." He smiled. "However, having the Princess…lead…us tomorrow will be a great honor and very much appreciated. Thank you."

Gorim had to admit it, Duncan was good a diplomacy, even though the Warden Commander bristled a bit at being led by Sereda. He made Gorim almost want to become a Grey Warden. Almost.

He took Sereda aside for a moment and went over his proposed change of plans. She thought it was a great idea, so Gorim went off to get an audience with King Endrin and Frandlin Ivo. He knew what to tell each of them to make them agree. The King would want Sereda to taste the life of a Grey Warden and perhaps change her mind before she actually went through with it. Ivo wanted to lead the excursion anyway, so that shouldn't be a hard sell either. Gorim sighed as he realized that he would have to do some very persuasive talking if it turned out that there was a Blight.


	2. Orzammar: A Tainted Proving

With just enough time to make his way to the Proving, Faren found his pal Leske talking to that crazy nug seller, an established "vendor" in Dust Town. That showed just how desperate Dusters were. "What are you doing?" he asked Leske as he stepped away from the guy.

"Aw, the whore I was with last night said she'd always wanted one for a pet." Leske shrugged. "Too bad I had to pay for the whore or I mighta had enough to buy her one."

Faren's brow drew together and he started to tell Leske that he was as crazy as the nug guy, but he just sighed instead. "Let's get to the Proving," he said quietly. He patted his upper chest where he usually hid stuff in a hidden inside pocket. "I got the pass right here. You got the 'extras'?"

"Yeah," Leske confirmed as he gave the small, hairless, almost featureless, squeaking creatures one last glance. Faren decided that Leske was on the narrow side of sane. As he marched off toward the stairs to The Commons, he realized it was one of the many things in his life that he'd just have to endure. He also wondered if this whore was the one who told Leske that the tightly braided rows on his head—the rows that gave him a perpetual headache—looked sexy.

Just after making their way up the dilapidated ramp from Dust Town to the Commons, the pair got pulled to the side by a guy who wanted to give them money for their teeth. His "business" was transplanting duster teeth into nobles who were losing theirs. Faren glared at the guy. "Sod off, you parasite."

Leske pulled Faren back from doing more than just throwing some insults and told the guy, "Hey, I might be back later. Don't mind him."

The tooth vendor dusted down the front of his tunic while harshly sighing. "The…parasites…I have to endure to ply my trade." When Faren looked to break free from Leske's grasp, the dwarf stepped back and added, "I have a legitimate business here and will have you arrested if you threaten me, brand!" He turned to Leske. "Keep him away from me and I'll give you two silvers per tooth."

"Done," Leske said with a smile that lacked two teeth already. "See you later!" After shuffling Faren away, he said. "You need to put that temper on hold, salroka. We won't be able to do this job if you get thrown in prison before we even get there."

It took a few minutes, but Faren had to admit that sometimes the sane broke through in Leske. "Fine," Faren growled, but he had a smile on his face. Leske chuckled and released the hold he had on Faren's arm.

As they walked across the bridge to The Proving grounds, all three of the guards stationed at the door pulled their weapons. "You brands have no business here. Go back to the crack you crawled out of before we show you that lesson the hard way."

Faren smiled as he presented their passes. He knew Leske would be proud. "We got business with one of the fighters, if you would be so kind as to kiss my sodding ass and open the doors." One of the first guard's buddies held him back. That caused Faren to wonder if he looked that stupid when Leske had to hold him back.

"Let 'em go. Whoever was stupid enough to give 'em those passes will pay for anything they do inside." With that, the three guards stepped to the side and let Faren and Leske in.

Once inside, Leske let out a low whistle. "So, this is how the rich spend their time and coin." Even though they were deep below a lot of stone, there wasn't a speck of dirt anywhere in the main entry area. The wall sconces were shiny and fully lit. The stonework on the walls and floor was polished to a shine. Damn blinding shine. Those blessed by a caste were either horrified to see two brands walking around or they pretended not to notice them at all.

As they were making a circuit around the huge room, Leske tugged on Faren's arm. "I heard from Jarvia that a Grey Warden was in Orzammar. One o' them humans is him, ain't it?" he whispered. "Give you ten copper to talk to him."

"Why would I want to talk to him?" Faren knew next to nothing about the Grey Wardens, except that they actually chose to fight the darkspawn…but the armor the guy was wearing looked pretty good…and useful, too…must be a lot of hidden pockets in those fancy leathers and brigandine. The two long daggers on the man's back had nice shiny runes on them.

"Why?! The Grey Wardens are always looking for good fighters…good as you, Faren…you could get out of here and make a life for yourself." Leske chuckled. "And, send your pay back here for Rica, your mom and me to live a good life."

"Yeah, I'd rather stay here and keep an eye on you all." He gave the Warden a long look, sighed and shrugged. "Let's just do this and be on our way before the 'spawn-humpers at the door decide to frame us for something," Faren growled. "Keep listening to the talk around us and see if we can get a lead on where that Mainar's and Everd's rooms are."

Surprisingly, some merchant's son named Varick turned out to be a huge source of information. He had cornered the Warden and was filling him in on the fighters, where they were given warmup rooms and how it made a difference on how the betting went based on the servants who worked the rooms, how much ale each contestant had had that morning already…on and on. He said something about Everd, but Faren couldn't make it out. When he learned all he needed to know about the fighters' locations, he and Leske headed to the far side of the hall.

Before they could enter the hallway, that Grey Warden quickly stepped up and cut them off. Damn, that human was fast and quiet! If he stayed here too long, Beraht would drag him into the Carta.

"I noticed that you were quite interested in the conversation I was having just then," the Warden said. "I'm here to meet as many dwarves as I can and I haven't met anyone with facial tattoos yet. My name is Duncan."

Faren glanced back at Varick and was relieved to see that the talkative gambler had simply moved on to another Proving fan…likely without missing a beat. "I'm sorry, Duncan, but we got business with a patron inside. Maybe after the Provings today." He nodded, turned quickly and walked down the hallway to the fighters' rooms. However, he didn't miss that the Warden had sized him up already: glance to his hands, his armor and his weapons.

Fortunately, Duncan was called to the Proving Master's balcony and didn't have the time to further pursue the two casteless heading toward Everd's preparation room. Good thing, too, because when they cracked open the door, they saw Everd rolling on the floor. He was so drunk he didn't even know where he was. His smacking lips and thrusting pelvis indicated he was caught in a lichen ale-induced dream. At least it was a happy dream.

"Deepstalker steamin' shit, Faren," Leske hissed as he closed the door behind them. "He's supposed to win! All the sod's doing is dreaming about winning with some whore."

"I can see it, Leske," Faren grumbled. "We need to get to Beraht and tell 'im to change his bets."

"It's too late, salroka. The bets are already down." Leske looked around and his eyes fell on the armor stand, on it one of the finest sets of armor any brand had ever seen. He walked over to it and removed the full helm. "You could wear this and no one would know it was you."

"Now, I know you've inhaled too much coal smoke, Leske." Faren huffed and sat on a stool by the door.

"You got skills," Leske continued, undaunted. "You could win with the guy you're going up against under the influence of Beraht's potion." He held out the helm. "Get it on while I drug up Mainar's water."

Faren gave Leske a long, hard glare, but he had no other ideas. Without a word, Faren started to get dressed in armor no doubt passed down from father to son for generations. With an ear-to-ear grin, Leske left to handle the other matter. If Faren got discovered, the armor would be thrown in the lava for being disgraced by a brand. If Faren were lucky, he'd be in the armor when they threw it in. Rica was gonna laugh her ass off tonight.

* * *

Sereda definitely wanted to be part of the Grey Wardens. She respected their mission and liked the wardens who were in Orzammar. Duncan was a capable leader and the rest were friendly, curious and accepting … something she realized she desired more than anything.

She was pleased when Gorim asked her about going along with the Grey Wardens the next day. She gave him a few ideas on how to sell it to her father and Ivo, but he had a few of his own. She was sure he'd be successful. The Princess wasn't stupid enough to think Gorim had been won over to the wardens and she knew that he would be earnestly looking for ways to dissuade her.

But, she was grateful to go with the wardens instead of that mealy-mouthed Ivo and his contentious house who jerked him around like a rock puppet. She also knew Ivo was a friend of Bhelen's and didn't relish being caught alone in the Deep Roads with him.

Ancestors! Her father would be horrified at just how much she hated being a noble.

Sereda stepped into the adjacent royal viewing box before the first bout started. Trian grunted a greeting with his perpetual scowl. She knew he had a wonderful smile that lit up his eyes, but she hadn't seen that smile in years. She said quietly, "Trian, we need to talk."

He shot her a dark glare, but a quick glance around to the nearby crowd watching for any sibling controversy stopped him from an angry response. "What about?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Sereda knew there were a bunch of noble gossips' eyes on them, so she smiled and leaned close. "I wanted you to know that I'm going to join the Grey Wardens."

Trian turned quickly, the surprise evident on his craggy features. Then, he laughed. The deep, hearty laugh that reminded Sereda of days past when she would do almost anything to please her big brother. And, there was that good smile. There and gone in mere moments. "Good one, Sereda. Tell that to all your deshyr admirers over there," he said with a fake smile and angry eyes. For most, that would be difficult to pull off, but Trian was a pro.

She nodded toward Duncan and the wardens in the Proving Master's box. "Ask Duncan. He'll tell you. It's the truth," she explained. "I'm going with them tomorrow to scout for signs of an Archdemon while you, father and Bhelen go to clear the Deep Roads around Aeducan Thaig in preparation for the barrier door to be installed."

Trian sat back and furrowed his brows. He looked like he was making a difficult decision…the kind where none of the alternatives were good ones. He stroked his beard as he glanced toward Duncan, who caught the glance and nodded in return. "I thought you were going to handle the bypass around to the north."

"Gorim is going to ask Frandlin Ivo to lead the group handling that route and then meet back up with you all at the Thaig with reports tomorrow evening. The alarm circuit is his idea, so I doubt he'll refuse." Sereda looked into Trian's eyes. They were no longer dark and dangerous…at least not directed toward her, at the moment. She bit back the icy retort she was getting ready to throw back at him.

"That little shit of a thaig crawler," Trian said under his breath. Sereda could actually hear his teeth grinding. By the time he was king, Trian would need a full set of new ones.

"Who?" Sereda had a pretty good idea to whom Trian was referring but wanted him to tell her more than a name. She wanted to know why he was disparaging their little brother.

"Bhelen told me you had arranged to confront me early and try to kill me." His tone was matter-of-fact and scary, to tell the truth. "He obviously didn't know you wouldn't be leading the group to the north." To no one nearby, he added, "Careless of you, little brother."

"Well, I only made the decision a short time ago," Sereda explained. "Actually, even Father doesn't know I've made a firm commitment yet, even though he gave me leave to make the decision myself."

The Proving Master announced the first bout, the young Everd against the skilled Mainar. "Do me one last favor, Sereda," Trian asked as the two combatants walked to the center of the ring. "Don't tell them yet. Ask Duncan if you can go out and come back to the rendezvous point tomorrow afternoon. We'll confront Bhelen together."

This was the part of her family life she hated. She never knew whom to believe. Was Bhelen trying to frame her while he had Trian killed? She knew Trian had certainly been irrationally angry enough to kill her tomorrow without giving her a chance to ask why. Or, was Trian trying to set her up to take a fall after he went ahead and killed Bhelen first? She looked toward Duncan and smiled. A witness was what she needed and she knew just who to recruit.

"What the Stone is wrong with Mainar?!" Trian hollered, same as everyone around.

It brought Sereda back to the bout at hand. Everd had defeated the seasoned warrior, Mainar. She smiled. She liked Everd a lot. He was young and brash and made her laugh. He was a lot like Gorim when he was younger. Thinking of Gorim made her smile more. She hoped he would join the wardens with her, but knew it would be a lot to ask.

"The next bout is with…" The Proving Master introduced Everd's next opponent. This was going to be a tough fight. Adalbo was a master of most weapons and moved in his armor as if it weren't there.

When he went down, there were a few disappointed calls, but the acclaim for Everd was growing around the ring.

Sereda saw quite a bit of gold changing hands among the nobles in the audience. She wondered if some adventurous ones were wagering on the young long shot against Lenka. Sereda would never want to take on a member of The Silent Sisters. They were skilled, trained constantly and were dedicated to fighting…so dedicated that they cut out their own tongues to demonstrate their determination. When Lenka's unconscious body hit the sandy floor of the ring, the place erupted in cheers for Everd and the Proving Master was unable to stop it.

The only thing that did stop it was a staggering drunk walking out into the middle of the ring, "Hav' w' starded?" Indignation should have drowned out the man except Sereda noticed that the drunk was Everd! At the same time, one of the Proving guards said the same thing to the Proving Master. "Hey, thass m' arm'r!" Everd said as he staggered toward the imposter at the center.

Trian snorted. "The armor didn't just win by itself. Some warrior caste joker is going to have hell to pay for this one…and then, he'll have my wager on any future bouts."

Since the royal box was technically part of the Master's box, the Master overheard Trian. He cleared his throat. "Whoever you are, take off your helm."

The fighter replied, "I ain't gonna take off any helm. I won fair and square." His accent was rough and uneducated. Sereda knew this wasn't going to end well when she noticed Trian narrowing his eyes and giving the Proving Master a warning glare.

"Take off that helm or the guards will take it off for you!" he commanded with a nod to Trian that he would handle the situation.

The fighter reached up with both hands to remove his helm. The entire arena was dead quiet as he did. All wagers as to his identity had already been made. Sereda swore that if the audience stands had been lower, there wouldn't have been any sand left on the arena floor from the intense intake of breath when his face was revealed. The man had greasy dark red hair, disheveled from the helm, a dirty beard with two mismatched braids on either side of his chin…and a brand that marked the entire left side of his face. Casteless!

"I'm of no caste or clan," the man shouted and then pointed up to the stands. "And, I beat all of your champions!"

"Guards, take this man to a cell!" the Master got out before bedlam erupted. Trian stormed out. Sereda didn't know if it was because of her news or Bhelen's or the Proving. The Master turned to Duncan. "Grey Warden, I must apologize for this outrage. This brand disregarded everything this Proving stands for."

Duncan looked more than a little confused, as well as displeased. His response surprised Sereda and every dwarf within hearing range, including Gorim who had just run in. Duncan said, "That dwarf…is your champion!" Then, he and his wardens left the Proving grounds, Duncan looking straight ahead and Gavin laughing to some unspoken joke. The other three humans just looked confused. As they walked by, Alistair was overheard to say, "But, he won, didn't he?"

"Well, I hear that was certainly one of the more interesting Provings in a long time," Gorim said to Sereda as he stepped up next to her. "Still want to belong to a group of surfacers who don't care about our traditions?"

Sereda spun and gave Gorim a fierce glare. He was right, of course, but Duncan only knew the dwarven way as colored by Gavin. But, why should they care about the archaic traditions of Orzammar! Plus, she was still angry at Bhelen and Trian. Gorim was just the nearest target.

"Traditions?!" she harshly whispered, close enough to his face to see a bit of fear dart across his face. "Like the one where one brother tries to kill off his sister and pin it on his older brother? Like the one where we finally get an adjacent thaig cleared only to have constant bickering over whether the smith class or the artisan class get credit for the plans for or the appearance of the barrier door? Like the one where you and I could never marry no matter how much we love each other? Like that, Gorim?!" She took a harsh, quick breath. "I think I can live very well with a group of surfacers who don't care about those traditions." She turned on her heel and added as she walked out, "Don't bother following me, Second. I can find my own way home."

She was pleased by the dumbstruck look on Gorim's face.


	3. Orzammar: Confirmation and Departure

Leske paced in Beraht's Carta prison cell. He'd rather be in the guardhouse prison or chained to a golem or fighting darkspawn with his bare hands. Those other places likely meant death. He might get lucky and break away. He gave up any hope of getting out of this cell alive. The now-cleaned plate of roast nug and bread was pretty good though. He didn't want to think about why Beraht fed him so well in here.

A groan from the other cell told Leske that Faren was starting to stir. "Wake up, duster," Leske told him in a whisper that could be heard by anyone nearby. He noticed only one guard, Shram. He was a strong brute with no brains, no emotions and no conscience.

After a long minute, Faren came to the bars. "This ain't Orzammar's jail." Leske really marveled at Faren's grasp of the obvious. Too bad the distance between the cells was too great for him to punch Faren for saying it.

"Beraht paid off some guards to get us here so he could execute us himself." After Leske said that, he shuddered, even more sure of his upcoming slow, painful death.

"Nice accommodations for Orzammar's latest Proving champion, eh?" Faren responded after a few minutes of looking over the bars. "Well, this might be a problem."

Again, with the obvious. Before Leske could start to grouse, Jarvia walked in. She considered herself the queen of the Carta…and so did most of the Carta. She was beautiful and confident. Leske'd always daydreamed about getting Jarvia under the covers, but he never said anything about it because she was Beraht's. And that was about as off limits as she could get.

"Good evening, boys," Jarvia said with her typical snide grin. "I hope you enjoyed your last meal, because it was the last one you'll ever be able to chew." She laughed. It echoed around the room of cells, all empty but the two with Faren and Leske.

Faren looked over his shoulder. "Looks like the rats got mine." He sucked down his snot and spit it through the bars, landing right in front of Jarvia's feet. She didn't even flinch, but she did get an unhappy look on her pretty face.

"You gotta be the dumbest duster in all of Orzammar, Faren," Jarvia said quietly, deadly. "I'm gonna ask Beraht to hold off on the torture until I get back from cleaning up your mess. Then, you'll be sorry you weren't more civil."

That got a snort out of Faren. "Civil, are you? You're just Beraht's whore, Jarvia." Obvious, and a stupid thing to say to Jarvia's face.

Her face reddened and her eyes went wide. Her hands went to her daggers, but then she stopped herself. "You'll pay for that," she said through her clenched teeth. Then, there was that evil smile. "Later, when I get back. Think about how I'm going to carve you up." She flashed a glare at Leske. "Smart to stay quiet, Leske. Maybe I'll kill you quick like."

Leske gave her a grateful smile and he swore she appreciated it. Then, she was gone. "Think she meant that, Faren? Think she'll kill me quick?"

Shram grinned his imbecilic grin. "If Miss Jarvia said it, you can believe it. She got mad at me once. Not as mad as she is with you two. She just hit me hard in the head. She didn't kill me."

That gave Leske an idea. Maybe Faren got hit on the head too many times and that's why he's always so obvious.

Faren jiggled one of the bars on his cell and gave Leske a sly wink. "Hey, Shram, I think this bar is loose. Whaddaya think?"

Shram didn't think. If he had given the question any thought, he wouldn't have walked within easy range of Faren who grabbed Shram and slammed his head hard against the bars…twice. "Sorry, Shram," Faren said as he gently let Shram slide down. He grabbed the cell keys on the unconscious guard's belt.

Leske stood there with his mouth hanging open. Even when Faren opened his cell door, he was speechless. However, when Faren opened a nearby chest and found all their stuff, he sighed. A chance for escape trumped a chance for a quick death. "You know we're at the bottom of the Carta hideout, Faren."

"Yeah," Faren said as he slipped on his last boot and reached for his shoulder scabbard for his twin daggers. "You'd rather stay for your quick like execution?"

Leske shrugged. "Guess it'll be quick like now, no matter what." He also got his gear on and then said, "Let's go."

* * *

The wardens didn't have to go too far into the Deep Roads for Duncan to pick up the feel of nearby darkspawn. Duncan lamented that he didn't have any mages with him. His current force only had two and one of them had been sent to Weisshaupt. "Stand ready," he whispered as he peeked around the corner. He could hear the people behind him quietly pull their weapons and shields. They were definitely warrior heavy. What Duncan saw gave him pause. A group of ten darkspawn: two magic-casting genlock emissaries, three hurlocks and five genlocks. They were already deployed and waiting for them. "Gavin, Alistair, there are two emissaries. Smite them as we round the corner." He looked to the others behind him. "Rush the rest, but kill those emissaries first."

"Two emissaries?" Sereda questioned. "How large a force?" After Duncan answered her, she added, "In all my years of fighting darkspawn, I've never come up against a balanced group of them." She gave Gorim a solemn look and he returned it with a solemn frown.

At Duncan's signal, everyone charged from cover. Gavin and Alistair targeted the two emissaries and successfully debilitated them as they were casting.

"Get 'em down fast," Gavin hollered. "I don't know how long my smite will last!"

The casters did go down fast, but the rest weren't so easy. Duncan noticed that Gorim had gotten flanked. "Gorim! Behind you!" he hollered, but Sereda had already seen it and engaged the flanking hurlock. The darkspawn had height on the dwarves, but it only added a few more minutes to Lady Aeducan's swift attack. Her lower vantage left the hurlock's armor joints open to be breached. She dispatched that hurlock and then turned to help Carsten.

Orich suffered the worst of the injuries: a sliced arm at the elbow joint. Gorim used the warden supplies to stop the bleeding and wrap the cut.

Sereda stood there with a pensive look on her face and then turned to Duncan. "I have never fought an organized, trained and … and smart group of darkspawn before. Duncan, they were stationed there. Have they actually been tracking us?"

Duncan didn't smile at Sereda's perceptiveness. "They were. Just as we wardens can sense the darkspawn, they can sense us. Older wardens, such as Gavin and myself, can sense them from even greater distances. We can … hear them. Not word for word, but more of a buzz or song." He sighed and scanned the dead darkspawn bodies around them. "Today, I heard a few words and the buzz was decidedly difference."

"It would have been nice to know that before the Princess risked her life with your wardens." Gorim didn't exactly growl that response, but it was close.

Sereda's frustration with her second was hit again. "Gorim! Do you understand what Duncan is saying? What that organized, trained and ready attack meant?" She turned to Duncan. "It indicates a Blight, doesn't it?"

Duncan glanced at Gavin who nodded. "I hear it, too, Commander. Like a new musician was added with a loud string-harp."

"I'm afraid it does, Sereda. We have warden scouts fanned out across Ferelden. As soon as I can, I will notify warden headquarters at Weisshaupt of our findings, as well as the other nations' warden commanders. They will also send out their wardens to scout darkspawn activity. Soon, we should know if Ferelden is going to be the focal point for the Archdemon or some other nation will. In any case, we must prepare for it." Duncan stood. "There is an Archdemon and this is a Blight."

Not to be put off, Gorim continued, "But, how do you know this?"

Alistair shrugged and smacked Gorim on the shoulder. "It's a warden thing. You'll find out after you join."

Gorim pushed Alistair's hand away. "You'll tell me now." He faced Duncan. "I said I'd let us become Grey Wardens if you found evidence of an Archdemon. Now, you're telling me you just feel it? That's not evidence."

"'Let us join?" Sereda asked with a rather perturbed look on her face. Duncan wondered if Gorim even realized that his actions only cemented Sereda's determination to become a Grey Warden. "Have you been paying attention today?! Have you ever fought a darkspawn … squad like that?! I haven't. Those darkspawn were obviously being lead by a superior intelligence."

"Princess, this entire thing's full of nug-shit," Gorim replied. "They just 'know' there's an Archdemon?" He glared at Duncan. "You'd get quite the prize with the princess of Orzammar as a warden, wouldn't you."

"Gorim! Stop this!" Sereda demanded. "I asked Duncan first. He made no attempt to convince me to join the wardens." She stepped closer to Gorim. "As for letting us, I have already decided to join; however, I give you leave to make up your own mind."

Gorim glared back at her for a moment and then, with a string of dwarven curses, most of which Duncan had never heard before, crossed his arms and waited for the group to move.

As if to confirm the situation, they met three other "squads" of darkspawn in their mission … units just as motivated and organized as that first one. They had been walking for hours and were several miles outside the barrier door construction of the Aeducan Thaig. Duncan knew they were nearing the point where they would have to return to make a rendezvous that Sereda wished to attend.

* * *

Faren and Leske worked their way up through the Carta hideaway, not only defeating the thugs along the way — Faren was the Orzammar champion after all — but ripping through and pocketing goods from Carta supply crates and armor stands. When they stumbled on a room full of ale kegs, they each crammed multiple flasks of the best stuff in any pocket and packs they could find. "This sword is ten times better than the dagger I had," Faren said as he went through a few swings. "And, this dagger has runes on it. No idea what they're good for, but better than the rust-coated one I've been using."

"Yeah, that sword looks like the one you used in the Proving," Leske said from his seat on the last crate they emptied. He eyes widened, "It is the sword you used. Look at the engraving!"

Sure enough, there was the monogram of Everd's house right at the crossbar. Beraht musta had someone snatch it during the big uproar. Bastard probably got enough goods from the crazy after that fight to more'n pay for any betting losses. "Damn, I'm not gonna wanna be seen with this sword once we get outta here."

Leske snorted. "Use it to get to the doorway out and we can decide to leave it behind there."

Faren grinned. He had to admit that Leske had some smarts under all that dumb. "Good idea. You rested up? Let's keep going. I think we're near Beraht's office." He knew Beraht had a great set of matching daggers. If what they said was true at the Proving and the Ancestors truly did favor him and he and Leske did manage to kill Beraht, he'd have more armor and weapons than the king.

A couple more fights and salvaging sessions and they found themselves outside Beraht's door. Faren stopped Leske from just walking in. He wanted to listen for a while. After listening to reports of Carta shakedowns, Beraht said, "Yeah, I let that Rica go. I've sunk enough into her and got nothing for it. You boys can have her."

As they all started laughing, Leske whispered, "You heard enough?"

Faren had heard enough. He pulled Everd's sword and the good dagger. They both stashed their loot by the door and got ready.

One of the thugs talking to Beraht said, "You know I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that Rica…wanna go with me? We can toss her in the lava when we're done."

Faren didn't remember details after that. He knew he kicked in the door and slit the throat of one of the lackies before the guy even knew he was being killed. Beraht and the other one took a little more time. A little. When all the swinging stopped and the blood wasn't flinging around anymore, Faren wondered if he was really a berserker because once he heard that guy's threat to Rica, he saw red…and not all of it was blood.

* * *

Sereda was afraid that she was late to the rendezvous, but she got there just as Trian did. Bhelen and the king hadn't arrived yet. "Good," she said as she stepped up to Trian, "I thought we'd be late."

Trian looked at Gorim and the wardens standing at the entrance to the crossroads, in full view of the meeting. He frowned. "You brought witnesses. Didn't trust me?"

She raised an eyebrow at her older brother. "Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?" She had the distinct feeling that she'd just ruined his plans to kill her and then pin it on Bhelen.

Trian glared back at Duncan who was standing with his arms folded in full view of the rendezvous. "You really going to the surface?" When Sereda nodded, Trian just sighed and made a hand gesture to the archers around the area. Sereda's hands went to her sword hilt and shield, but stopped when she realized the archers were lowering their bows. From her peripheral vision, she noticed that Gavin had stopped Gorim from rushing forward. "Smart move bringing them," he added as he pointed his chin to Gorim and the wardens. "Are you sure you want to waste all those good smarts on darkspawn?"

It dawned on her in that moment, that the scheming and even any assassination attempt wasn't personal at all…just a handy way to remove both his siblings from his path to the throne. Sereda just shook her head and frowned. "Yes," she said. "This is a Blight. The darkspawn are now organized and fight as units. You need to make sure our forces know that. Have someone research tactics from the last Blight at the Shaperate." Trian was actually listening to her. Many dwarves thought that Blights made it easier for the dwarves as the darkspawn headed to the surface, but, in some ways, it became harder.

Then, they heard the sound of many feet running in their direction. Again, hands went to sword and shield, until Bhelen, the king and their large regiment of guards hastened into the area. The king ran up to Trian and Sereda, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Thank the Ancestors you're all right. Bhelen got a message that it sounded like you were under attack."

"His messenger must have been eating raw deep mushrooms, Father," Sereda said with a smile to Bhelen that did not reach her eyes. She knew that he knew that she knew. "But, as you can see, we're fine. I was just starting to tell Trian what we found. It's not good news for the surface or for us."

King Endrin's face fell as the rest of the wardens and Gorim stepped up. Sereda realized that she was leaving her father with a mess, but she had to do what she felt was best for herself as well as the world she'd lived under for so many years. If the surface fell, Orzammar would soon follow. Ultimately, she believed that whatever she could learn topside would help her people here.

* * *

A concealed elven stranger peered around one of the tumbled stones of an ancient Aeducan thaig column. The spy had been hiding in the shadows, listening to the conversation. She followed at a distance all the way back to Orzammar where she shapeshifted into a small bat and flew by the entrance guards easily enough. All attention was on the royal family and the wardens.

It seemed the matter of removing the Princess from succession had taken care of itself. The elf had studied Orzammar history and social structure and realized that leaving the two princes alive, meaning no clear favorite with the deshyrs, would stir more controversy than killing one or both of them. Here, miles underground, ascension was not a guarantee for the oldest child. Trian and Bhelen at each other's throats would serve to destabilize Orzammar after the old king was gone.

Of course, she couldn't leave the king's death to chance. It had to happen as soon as the Princess left. The doors to the surface would be shut and news of Orzammar would be cut off, keeping Sereda from finding out.

* * *

"We can't just leave through Janar's," Faren said as he picked up a stolen backpack full of stolen treasures that had been hidden away in Beraht's office. "Too bad he's still open. It's closer to the lift to the Hall of Heroes."

"One of those passages back there leads to a door in that whacko Garin's storeroom," Leske said. "Even if we run into him, he'll never remember long enough to turn us in." He grunted as he hefted his pack. "You sure we gotta go topside? I mean, we killed Beraht. That's gotta be worth something to the sodding nobles, right?"

Faren turned around and started out the door they had entered. "Yeah, except the ones he's been paying off. They'll be pissed that their extra income has been cut off." He chuckled as he held up a journal. "Although, the ones he's been blackmailing will be happy he's gone." He looked at the journal a moment and then stuffed it into his backpack. "Never know if that information might come in handy, eh?"

They made their way back to the passage to the merchant Garin's storeroom. Just as they slipped into the storeroom, they could hear a commotion somewhere behind them in the hideout. Faren shrugged. He wasn't too worried that the Carta'd be coming after him and Leske. More likely they were starting to fight over who was gonna take over. No guarantee it would be Jarvia even though she had his bet.

Faren stood just inside the door for a moment waiting for some kind of ruckus to come up that they could blend into and head for the way out. It didn't take too long to hear that there was a large group coming up from the Deep Roads mining entrance. He nodded to Leske and then to the crowd. They stepped out and tried to angle in with the servants, hide next to shields or warriors with full helms on. They were following a bunch of well-armored nobles. His eyes grew wide when he saw that Grey Warden walking in front of them, which was too bad since he missed some very familiar warriors walking right next to him.

"Hey, Everd," one of the warriors behind them said. Faren and Leske tried to angle away, but the warrior who spoke up grabbed Faren's pack and shoulder and stopped him while another warrior grabbed Leske. "Meet the guy who stole your armor yesterday."

Before the beatings could begin, the king broke through the throng. "What's going on here?" he asked Everd as he was about to punch a secured Faren.

The group of angry warriors parted for the king but didn't let go of Faren and Leske. "This is the brand who tarnished the Proving yesterday, Your Majesty," Everd replied, not lowering his fist. He looked like he had one hell of a hangover, too. "He must have broken out of jail. We were just gonna see he was returned to it…at least most of him."

"Casteless," the king directed to Faren, "is this true? Did you dishonor the Proving yesterday?"

Faren stood as straight as he could. Leske looked as white as a sheet. Just as Faren was about to lay a string of insults on the warriors around him, he saw Rica off to the side. She had a horrified look on her face, shaking her head to tell him to shut up. Mighta been the smart thing to do, but he was about to be executed anyways. So, he just turned to the king. "Yes, Your Majesty, I defeated these mighty warriors yesterday while this Everd was drunk on his ass and unable to fight 'em." The guy holding him tightened his grip enough to make Faren grimace. "And, I just killed the leader of the Carta for ya'. So, whattaya gonna do to your champion and the only city defender brave enough to go up against Beraht? This casteless brand just did the job of these sodding whiners who can't beat me unless they gang up on me."

The king turned to speak to one of his guards, but Duncan stepped up and stopped him. "Your Majesty, if I might offer a solution. This dwarf is casteless, of no consequence in your society, if I understand my inquiries at the Shaperate yesterday. Therefore, I declare the Right of Conscription for him. He is a good fighter, if not to the standards of honor of your regular warriors." Duncan also gave Faren a "shut up" look. This time Faren decided to keep listening. "I believe I can shape him into a fine Grey Warden."

Faren rather enjoyed the dropped jaws all around him. A woman who kinda looked like the king seemed amused while some guy next to her was red-faced and whispering some rant into her pretty ear. The king's sons were there, too. Faren'd seen 'em both arguing in front of Tapsters before, but he'd never seen the daughter. Bhelen was looking toward Rica and she was givin' him some pleading look. By the Stone! She was involved with Prince Bhelen! "My pal Leske needs to be released, Your Majesty. He had nothing to do with the Proving, but I couldn't a killed Beraht without him."

Bhelen then stepped up to his father. "Father, this matter's done enough damage here. Let him go with the Wardens and good riddance. He'll just be another surfacer then. If Duncan wants to take a casteless thug, let him." Rica seemed pleased at Bhelen's words.

The king whirled on his son. "Your sister's going to serve with that casteless thug!"

So, the pretty one was the princess … and she was coming with the wardens, too! Everyone stopped moving and talking. The Commons was always the loudest section of Orzammar but now the only sound was the incessant squeaking of the wrangled nugs penned nearby. The only one who didn't look surprised was the older Prince and he just looked grumpy.

Bhelen actually smiled. He walked up to the princess and took her shoulders. "Are you certain this is what you want?"

Well, the nug-shit hit the lava then. She shrugged off his hands with a growl. She turned her glare to Faren and he actually got a little scared. She pointed at him and looked around her. "Did you oh-so-honorable warrior caste listen to what he said?! He defeated the best of you yesterday — defeated you soundly as Everd was too drunk to even walk, much less fight! He just killed the worst criminal we've had in Orzammar in ages!" She spun on Bhelen with a side glare to Trian. "Would I rather fight the honorable fight alongside this brand against darkspawn than sit here and wait for either you or Trian to stick a knife in my back? Yeah! I would."

"Sereda!" Poor 'ol King looked like he was gonna have a seizure right there.

The Princess wasn't gonna have none of it. "Duncan, I only need a short time to gather my things. If you would accompany me to the royal palace, I would appreciate it." She glared at Bhelen and Trian again. "Unfortunately, I no longer trust anyone in Orzammar."

At the king's signal, the warriors released Faren and Leske. As they waited in line for the lift to the Diamond Quarter, Leske pulled Faren aside. Rica walked up. "You sure about this, salroka," Leske asked, the stun of what just happened still on his face.

"Yeah," Faren said as he turned to hug Rica. "If I'm reading things right, Rica, it looks like you're gonna be okay."

He knew she couldn't mention Bhelen's name out loud, but she blushed. "Things are going to be fine for me, Faren." She put her hand on her belly. "Just fine," she added with a grin.

They moved up in the line and Faren noticed that a couple of the wardens had come to stand with them. One of them was a dwarf warden. "What did you do to get conscripted into the wardens?" Faren asked him.

"My name's Gavin Bemot and this is Alistair, soon not to be the newest of the Grey Wardens." He turned an honest smile on Rica. "I fell in love with the wrong woman and didn't want to marry anyone else. My father had her killed and I left." He sighed. "You're lucky to get out of this snake pit." One of the king's guards called Gavin a few choice names, but the warden only grinned in response. "Thanks for proving my point."

It came time for Faren and the wardens to get into the lift to the Diamond Quarter. "This is where we say good-bye," he said to both Leske and Rica. He doubted she'd be able to go up to the Diamond Quarter with him right now. It wouldn't be discreet.

"Nah, if you're gonna be a warden, you'll be back," Leske said. "They're always around." But, he and Faren exchanged a shoulder grasp and pat on the back anyway.

Then, Faren opened his backpack and pulled out Beraht's ledger. He handed it to Leske and said, "Here. Ya might find some use for this. Don't look like it'll do me any good."

Leske said he'd look after Rica and she laughed at Leske as she gave Faren a firm hug. "He can look after mother until…well, you know," she whispered.

The lift doors opened and Faren and the wardens stepped inside. The next time the doors opened, it was to a world Faren had never seen with his own eyes. This was gonna be very interesting.

* * *

The day after the new dwarf Grey Warden recruits left for the surface, the stranger again slipped out of the shadows … after turning herself into a small rat. The one called Gorim didn't go along and the princess looked sad when they parted. It reminded the spy of one of the romantic novels she liked to read.

She was easily able to pass into the royal palace and find her way down several oblique hallways to the bed chamber of the king. Everyone was in the throne room still yelling at the king for allowing his daughter to be taken by the Grey Wardens. A throne room full of suspects should they uncover that their king had been poisoned later during the night, but most likely they would discover that sometime during the night, he simply passed to the Stone. A very solemn euphemism for dying.

In truth, the king saved his daughter's life by letting her go. The instigator of the skilled elf's contract, along with the blessing of the king of Kal-Sharok, wanted no potential for competent rule in Orzammar. Either of the sons might be competent in Orzammar — doubtful, but possible — but they would be ignorant of dealing with the surface or with their very, very angry kinsmen in Kal-Sharok. She allowed herself a moment of amusement at the thought that these Orzammar dwarves thought themselves devious and underhanded.

The infiltrator smiled as she opened the horribly dusty vial in her gloved hand and poured it into the ewer of water by the king's bedside. After a few moments, the murky green poisoned water turned again to clear. Noble Killer. Quick, painless and very lethal. By the time the king would be found dead in the morning, it would be untraceable as poison. Too bad she had to resort to the mundane method of poisoning. Definitely not as elegant as the ancient magics. But dwarves were resistant and her employers wanted to take no chances.

She replaced the vial where she'd found it and made it look as dusty and untouched as it had before. Then, she slipped out of the royal palace just as easily as she had entered and quickly made her way to the surface. On to the next step in her employer's contract. It should be much, much more interesting for a skilled mage assassin. She was surprised when she discovered that the Wardens were going there, too.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks to _coduss_ for your review. I hope you enjoy my take on Duncan. It will differ from canon...a lot. :)


	4. The Circle Tower: Arrival

Apprentice Jowan Levyn had been spending more and more time on the second floor of the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold. His friend, Daylen Amell, was no longer an apprentice. Daylen passed his Harrowing, became a full mage and lived on the second floor. Another friend, Anders, had been a mage for some time. While under the tutelage of Senior Enchanter Wynne, Anders became one of the Circle's most intuitive and empathic healers. Anders took Daylen and Jowan under his wing and helped them with lessons, papers and spell mechanics.

Unfortunately, Anders was one of those people who could not stand the Circle. Jowan really thought the real issue was being locked in a tower. Anders agreed, in principal, with the idea of a Circle for training and protection from an ignorant, Chantry-besotted public. Even First Enchanter Irving had said that if they let him live in the small community of Kinloch on the mainland, he was certain Anders would always come back for his meals and his friends.

As things were, Anders worked tirelessly to discover a new chink in the security of the Tower and run away. The Templars, the Circles' watchdog protectors, would always find him and bring him back. He was gone now. Maybe this fifth time would be successful and he would be able to keep his freedom.

Unfortunately, the Templars had a way to find those who escaped the tower. When a new apprentice arrived at the tower, they took some of his or her blood and used that to track the missing youngster. Ironic, or hypocritical, since mages using blood to power spells were called maleficar, a death sentence in Thedas.

The other member of his small circle of friends, Neria Surana, was an elf with an incredible aptitude in the healing arts, both magical and non-magical. She could actually explain what Anders would do to heal a patient. She was always on the second floor studying the dustiest volumes of anatomy, biology and the best way to introduce magic healing to the systems of the body.

After years of training, all mages had to undergo either a Harrowing (a test of the apprentice's strength of will) or the Rite of Tranquility. The apprentices knew who failed their Harrowing. The tested would never be seen again. It was all a big secret, but only someone blind to reality didn't know that an apprentice either succeeded or was executed. Some of the weaker mages actually chose the Rite of Tranquility for this reason. Jowan was a fairly successful entropic mage with a bit of primal magic. He would never choose Tranquility. Jowan had been at the Circle almost a half-year longer than Daylen and it worried him that they might force Tranquility on him soon.

Today, however, he was up here looking for information about Neria. Late yesterday, Cullen and a few other Templars took Neria to the Harrowing Chamber on the very top floor of the tower.

"Jowan!" Daylen caught up just outside the library. He stepped into the circular hallway that went around the tower between the outside rooms and the center room. "Cullen just told me Neria passed!" He grinned and his bright blue eyes sparkled. "My record still holds as the fastest Harrowing," he smirked. "I know she doesn't know many offensive spells, but with her healing abilities, she could just stay alive forever."

Daylen was a very talented primal mage who was beginning to study to be a battlemage, mostly using elemental forces for his attacks. Jowan was horrified at the thought that popped into his head. "Alive forever?! You have to fight in the Harrowing?" His face mirrored the shock of his voice.

"Andraste's ass," Daylen said as he looked around. Daylen was tall and handsome. He wore his long black hair down, but pulled back at the sides by two small braids. No one else was nearby, but someone might have overheard the slip up that caused Jowan's alarm. Knowledge of the Harrowing was supposed to be another great secret. Jowan knew there was the danger of the Templars killing you, but he never knew the test itself was dangerous. In a much lower volume, Daylen explained, "Think about it, Jowan. We can walk the Fade, the land of dreams, and we attract demons. They want to know if you're strong enough to resist a demon. How better to do that then pit you against one?"

Jowan remained horrified. Suddenly, the delay in his own Harrowing wasn't such an immediate issue. He took a deep breath and nodded at Daylen. "Thank you for telling me that, Daylen." He gave his friend a nervous smile. Then, he changed the subject. "So, Neria's all right?"

"Yes, they've taken her to her new quarters somewhere on this floor." Daylen looked down the hallway. "Let's go see if we can find her."

Jowan mumbled, "It'll be the one with Ser Cullen stationed outside." He really didn't mind the young Templar's infatuation with Neria. Daylen didn't either, anymore. After Cullen pulled her away from Ser Alrik's abuses, Cullen was given a begrudged respect from Daylen and Jowan. Cullen speaking up against Alrik — testimony that got Alrik transferred to the much harsher Circle in Kirkwall — garnered gratitude from the entire Circle, even most of the other Templars. The black eye Cullen was sporting as they walked up to him made Jowan frown. Alrik obviously still had cronies here who were just biding their time until they could take up his corrupt practices once again.

"She's still asleep," Cullen said quietly. With a small smile, he added, "I'll be sure to let you know…" He was interrupted by a cry of alarm that caused all three men to rush inside the room. Actually, they rushed around the corner through the opening of one of three alcoves inside the room. Even mages were not accorded much privacy.

Neria was sitting up in her new bed looking around smiling. Her short blonde hair was mussed, revealing her delicate pointed ears, and her large blue eyes were sparkling with joy. "No bunk bed! This is lovely." As she noticed the men standing and looking at her, she added, "I'm fine. It went fine." She threw up her arms. "I have my own room now!" Jowan was always impressed at Neria's spirit. Nothing ever got her down. She threw back her bed covers and went to a dresser. "My own mirror!" Then she went to a large chest with a key lying on top. She grabbed the key and showed it to them. "A chest for my stuff with my own key! A key!" But her eyes really lit up when she spun around. "Really?! My own bath and privy?!"

Cullen cleared his throat, his fair-skinned face red as a Rainesfere apple. "Yes, well, uh, maybe we should, you know, leave you to it. Congratulations," he mumbled as he backed out and fled around the hall.

Jowan chuckled, but felt for the Templar. Daylen just laughed and sat on a chair at a corner study table while explaining, "Well, the Templars do have a master key to get into any mage's chest. You have to get your own bath water and then haul the dirty water to the midden all the way at the end of the hall just past the stairs to the Great Hall…same for the privy. You'll also notice that you're in the alcove nearest the door … you are the newest mage … so not overly much privacy. The servants clean up otherwise, though…clean sheets and towels every week, dusting whenever they get around to it. Gotta make your own bed." He shrugged with a grin. "Or not." He got up and went to the door to the main hallway around. "If you go through the storeroom, my room's just next to the library. Handy that."

"But, your alcove is in the middle of your suite," Jowan said.

Daylen put on his most disarming grin. "I managed to talk Godwin into trading with me. He has visitors at all hours for some reason and it was getting annoying for me and Niall. Niall helped me convince Godwin in exchange for the alcove in the corner." Then, he quietly added, "Niall really likes his privacy."

Jowan chuckled and then glanced up at the afternoon light from the high stained glass window. "I'm late! We can talk more tomorrow, Neria."

Neria dashed toward Jowan and grabbed his arm. "Don't, Jowan. I know you're going to visit with Lily. I know you think you're in love, but she is still an initiate of the Chantry. You know? The people who keep us locked up in here? Wait until we can find out if she's up to something."

He pulled his arm away. "She's not," he hissed. "She said she had something very important to tell me."

Leaving to the concerned looks of two of his best friends in the world, Jowan quickly made his way to the chapel to meet with his love … his wonderful, thrilling, forbidden love.

* * *

After surfacing from Orzammar and making their way east through Gherlen's Pass, the wardens and their dwarf recruits traveled north on the Imperial Highway. It was cold while they were in the Frostback Mountains and still cold when they reached the intersection with The North Road. Gavin took The North Road to Soldier's Peak with Sereda and Faren while the rest turned south and headed to Ferelden's Circle of Magi in the old Tevinter tower now called Kinloch Hold.

Duncan wanted Gavin to perform the Joining on the dwarves as soon as possible using the darkspawn blood they collected in the Deep Roads. Alistair hoped they survived the Joining. They all seemed dedicated and sturdy and would definitely be an asset to end the Blight.

Blight. Maker. The junior warden was still finding it hard to believe.

Alistair, Duncan, Orich and Carsten walked into the Spoiled Princess, the inn by the ferry dock for the tower. "I can't wait to sleep in a real bed tonight," Alistair said with a grin. The young warrior looked around the small tavern. "I haven't been here for a while. We came here for a few weeks during training…sort of a field trip from Denerim to learn about the workings of the Circle." He flushed and shuddered. "Knight-Commander Greagoir still scares me."

Duncan chuckled. "He has that effect on everyone, Alistair, but he has a fair hand."

Alistair thought back upon that month of training here. The thing that struck him the most was how incredibly young most of the tower's inhabitants were. The apprentices took up several barracks full of double-bunk beds.

When Alistair had asked why there were so many apprentices and a lot fewer mages, Greagoir gave him a grim look and enlisted him to witness a Harrowing. The poor girl was forced to enter the Fade and confront a demon. Seeing her twist and stretch into an abomination was horrifying. When Greagoir severed her head from her body and her…well, the abomination's blood sprayed everyone at the lyrium font, Alistair just stood there, ashen-faced.

Killing the abomination didn't bother Alistair at all. That was a Templar's duty, after all. Putting a young mage into a life-or-death fight for the right to survive did. It bothered him a lot. He often wondered if they didn't keep the Harrowing such a secret and actually trained the children for the ordeal, maybe more apprentices would survive.

After it was over, all Greagoir said to Alistair was, "Not every apprentice becomes a mage." And, with that, Alistair knew exactly why there were so few Harrowed mages.

The now-former Templar looked at Duncan. Even though the Ferelden Grey Wardens had next to no mages, the wardens throughout Thedas had quite a few, even some who were masters of blood magic. Duncan knew a great deal about mages and the magic they could wield against the darkspawn. He didn't know as much about Templars, he was learning by watching Alistair. Duncan had him begin to train Gavin in Templar skills to combat magic-wielding darkspawn. He had the feeling he'd be doing a lot of Templar-ability training in the near future. The Grand Cleric was going to kill him.

When they cleared out the Peak, they'd found a warden mage who was hundreds of years old…and a blood mage. He had used other wardens who were trapped with him during King Arland's assault on Soldier's Peak as test subjects to perfect a new potion that increased the abilities of wardens. He explained that there had been so much death during that assault that the Veil between here and the Fade was severely torn. They all agreed that repairing the Veil was the first priority.

Once the old maleficar repaired the rip in the Veil that made the fortress uninhabitable, Alistair voted to execute him. However, Duncan knew that research of that kind would be of interest to the First Warden in Weisshaupt, so he shipped old Avernus off to the Anderfels and started renovating Avernus' tower to house Ferelden's mage wardens. Alistair wasn't sure how he'd react if the First Warden commanded all the wardens to take that potion. He just kept repeating to himself, "Whatever it takes."

Orich turned and looked at the junior warden. "What did you say?"

Not realizing he'd said that out loud, Alistair just grinned sheepishly. "Whatever it takes to get the mages we need, eh?"

Duncan chuckled. "That's the spirit. I'm hoping the letter I received from First Enchanter Irving turns out to be true. He says they have a young healer and a battlemage who both show promise. The healer had suffered from an attack by one of the Templars and would likely benefit from leaving the tower and Irving knows the battlemage would find much more gratifying work killing darkspawn than testing apprentices' magic shields." He glanced over his wardens. "I'm going to take Alistair with me to the tower. As I doubt they'd let all four of us in for an overnight stay, I suggest you and Carsten stay here, Orich. I'll send word when I know something."

The barmaid had just set four mugs down on their table and Orich grinned. "Sure, Commander, we'll make sure your ale don't go to waste." Orich actually had noble blood…the ninth son of a bann somewhere in the middle of Ferelden. With all those heirs ahead of him, Orich didn't have too many options. They were all legitimate heirs, too. A noble who had children with his own wife. Imagine that.

Duncan picked up one of the mugs and handed it to Alistair. He lifted another one and held it out to his wardens. "Nonsense, there's always time for ale," he said as he downed his ale in one tilt of the metal mug. The commander confused Alistair. He was always polite and professional…stern and demanding…and then he would do stuff like gulp down his ale or expertly pick the lock to a chest just to 'see what was inside'. "Come, Alistair, let's see if Kester can get us across."

The boat ride across was smooth and quick. Kester knew this part of Lake Calenhad well and had made the trip over to and back from the tower thousands of times. Once they were on the docks below the tower entrance, a runner was sent ahead to alert the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter about their arrival. By the time they stepped inside, and both jumped at the boom of the solid metal doors shutting behind them, Greagoir was already striding their way…with a smile on his face.

"Duncan, you can just turn around and head back to wherever you came from," Greagoir said, still unnerving Alistair with his pleasant look. "We have nothing for the wardens here." No one knew exactly how long Greagoir had been at the tower in Ferelden, but it seemed like he was part of the place…like an itchy old chair. As he got closer, Alistair could see that the smile didn't even come close to reaching his eyes.

Duncan laughed. "Nice to know some things never change, Greagoir. However, I was invited by Irving, so I feel it necessary to at least go pay my respects, don't you?" Then, Duncan turned to Alistair. "I think you know my junior warden, Alistair."

Greagoir's smile quickly turned into a deep frown. "Yes, I do," he growled. No doubt word of the king's and Duncan's intervention at the Chantry to conscript Alistair had reached Greagoir and he wasn't happy about it. But, he wisely chose to keep quiet on the topic…for the moment. "So, are you here to grab Templars as well as mages, Warden Commander?"

Without skipping a beat, Duncan's face lit up. "Do you have a promising recruit for the wardens, Greagoir? You know I would never turn down anyone you would recommend." Duncan chuckled at Greagoir's glare and then cleared his throat. "Is Irving available?"

"He's having to take care of a runaway who was just returned," Greagoir answered with a shrug. "If I'd gone down to take care of that boy…well, let's just say he wouldn't be getting any farther than the cells in the basement."

* * *

Of the Circle towers the elf spy had visited before, this one was almost serene as well as imposing—Tevinter design at its finest. A man-made island was created far enough from the shore to grant a remarkable view of the largest lake in Thedas, more like a small inland sea with its own treacherous weather and deep water denizens to trouble fishing and travel.

What was once a place of study and magical design had been perverted into a prison. The gorgeous architectural spans of the causeway from shore to island had been destroyed to prevent escape. That didn't stop some industrious prisoners who persisted in their attempts to get away from the forced bondage. It angered her to witness the return of one such brave soul. He wasn't mistreated that she could see, but his spirit was wavering. She wondered if she might find an ally in him or others like him.

Her actual reason to be here was a mage who had been corresponding with the Circle in Minrathous. Uldred was his name and if his words were true, he would be a powerful ally, indeed. Magister Saharius was very interested in fomenting slow and steady insurrection among the mages of Ferelden. She had just sent a missive to him about news of the Blight. Mages could make their name in service to all of Thedas, this time orchestrated and directed behind the scenes by sympathetic and powerful magisters.

As she ended her musings, she noticed one of the Templars looking directly at her. She had assumed the form of a raven to do her scouting, so she only fluttered her wings and settled back on the tree limb where she was perched for a moment before she took off and flew to the top of the tower. If things worked out the way her employer designed, these horrible practices by the White Divine and her ignorant Chantry would soon be a gratefully forgotten thing of the past. Powerful magic would again be desired, respected and feared throughout Thedas.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks to _coduss_ for your review. The world is so full and rich. It's fun to play with ramifications of different actions on the part of the characters.


	5. The Circle Tower: Paranoia

Duncan realized he was using Alistair. The young man was not only an ex-Templar. He was the bastard son of the previous King Maric, which made him half-brother to the current king. Duncan knew Maric made a promise to the babe's mother to keep Alistair out of succession. She'd witnessed first hand the kind of strife that came with royal blood. No one could blame her for that request. Until recently, Duncan wouldn't say anything either because he'd also made a promise to warden Fiona to keep silent. However, once Duncan was apprised of Alistair's circumstance, he could not, in good conscience, allow Alistair to become a fully-commissioned Templar.

Duncan told King Cailan the entire story.

Cailan was livid when he found out that Alistair's caretaker, Arl Eamon Guerrin, had placed Alistair in the Chantry to train as a Templar. He approached Grand Cleric Elemena in Denerim to release Alistair. Even the demands of a king alone couldn't get Alistair free of the Chantry, but the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription was recognized by the Divine. So, Alistair was conscripted, survived his Joining and was grateful to become a Grey Warden.

Fiona would flay Duncan alive when she found out, but there was really nothing else Duncan could have done. Cailan was enamored with the Grey Wardens and insisted that Duncan conscript his half-brother away from the Templars. Even though Duncan explained that wardens gave up any title, Cailan was adamant that Alistair be freed from the Templars. The Wardens needed to nurture Cailan's enthusiasm if they were to have any chance against an Archdemon. Fiona would just have to understand.

Completely disregarding Duncan's statement about wardens not holding titles, Cailan went even farther and had Alistair recognized as next in line for the throne, should something happen to Cailan before he and Queen Anora, gave birth to a royal heir. Cailan's proposal to the Landsmeet was a complete surprise to some of the nobility, Duncan _and_ Alistair; however, the king and Anora orchestrated the vote in their favor. Many in the Landsmeet thought Teryn Loghain, Anora's father and hero of the rebellion versus Orlais, would speak out against the idea, but he kept quiet, his face unreadable. Duncan had wanted to approach Loghain in private about it, but the first reports of increased darkspawn activity took precedence. The red-faced apoplexy exhibited by Arl Eamon was something Duncan left Cailan to deal with.

After Alistair finished stowing his gear in a nearby chest, Alistair sat on the edge of the rather large bed he would have to share with Duncan. "I know why you want me here, Duncan," he said quietly. "And, for the record, I'm not fond of being used as leverage. Just so you know." Yes, Alistair was no fool.

"I know," Duncan replied with an added sigh. "And, I apologize, but we need more mages, Alistair. The two mentioned in Irving's letter sound very promising, but we're going to need even more to stop the upcoming Blight." He appreciated Alistair's honesty with him. Duncan could get along much better with wardens who were honest with him in private, but knew to respect his authority in public.

"Shouldn't the Blight alone be enough reason to comply?"

"It should, but the treaties I'd hoped to find in Soldier's Peak remain lost, so I have no written documentation to compel all the factions to support us. Some old documents we did find mentioned an old Warden outpost south of Ostagar in the Korcari Wilds. I'd like to check that out soon. The treaties may be there." Duncan closed his chest and stretched out on the bed. "I need to remain here in case Irving becomes available and sends for me. You are free to go anywhere on this floor except for the private mage quarters."

Alistair snorted. "Private."

That caused Duncan to sit up. Alistair again made a comment that sounded very un-Templar-like. "You take exception with the workings of the Circle, Alistair?"

"Actually, I think things have gotten a bit out of hand in regards to the Circle," Alistair replied. He turned toward Duncan. "The Chantry has set the public against magic, Duncan. They send Templars out to round up children…to 'save' them from a village indoctrinated to fear them…and then force them to undergo years of training only to potentially die in the apprentice test to become a mage. What if families were encouraged to visit their children? What if they could live nearby? It seems to me that a well-adjusted child surrounded by family would have a much better chance of survival." He shrugged and put on the mask of humor, always around to cover his own pain from abandonment. "But, what would I know about that, eh?" he added with a grin.

From the doorway, First Enchanter Irving interrupted, "You are making a case that I have made to the Templars time and again, Alistair."

Alistair laughed and leaned toward Duncan. "Privacy?"

"I apologize," Irving said. "I just walked in when you were speaking. But, if you wanted privacy, you should have closed your door, at least our guests have a door to close." The old man's eyes sparkled with amusement.

Duncan stood and walked over to Irving, clasping arms. "It is good to see you once again, old friend. I wish we had more time for a good visit, but I'm afraid I have some sobering news. My wardens and I have determined that we have a Blight on our doorstep. We need your help for mage recruits and a promise for aid when the Archdemon appears."

"Maker's breath, Duncan!" Irving had to sit in the chair by a writing desk. "I had no idea things were … a Blight?! Are you quite certain?"

"We just came from a visit to the Deep Roads," Duncan replied. "I am quite certain. My second and I felt a darkspawn presence greater than it had been in years…and an over-riding sense of leadership for them. The kind of thing that can only come from an Archdemon."

"Does the king know?" Irving asked. It seemed the initial shock was wearing off. He stood and started pacing, already thinking of what needed to happen next.

"We're on our way to Denerim via recruiting stops at Redcliff and the Brecilian Forest, but I wanted to alert you here first…and perhaps take some mage recruits with me." Duncan stopped Irving's pacing by taking his shoulders. "It is imperative we build our warden forces and prepare the mages for battle, Irving. I know you have little say in this, but the Templars should take part as well. There are darkspawn who use magic. Alistair has proven invaluable in interrupting their magical attacks." Duncan turned and smiled at the young warden.

"First, you should know the king isn't in Denerim," Irving said. "He's celebrating Summerday with Teryn Cousland in Highever. We were invited as a courtesy."

"Well, we'll need to change our plans, then, Alistair. We should swing north to Highever. There is a promising recruit among the knights there that I wish to interview," Duncan said.

Irving only half-listened to Duncan as his brow knitted in consternation. "You are still taking lyrium, Alistair?"

"I never started, First Enchanter," Alistair replied. Then, he frowned, "That's another thing a bit out of hand, in my opinion." His face flushed a deep crimson. "Andraste's flaming sword, I'm going to be damned to the Void if I don't shut up."

The old man only raised an eyebrow and said, "Interesting." After a moment to ponder what Alistair had let slip, he turned back to Duncan. "Come with me, both of you. Let's speak with Greagoir and then introduce you to Neria and Daylen, the two I wrote of in my letter." He paused a moment and stared directly at Duncan. "There may be a third mage for you, but you will have to conscript him away from Greagoir. He's a bright lad, a healer, who doesn't like living in the Tower, but he's not a maleficar so I've been able to keep him alive so far."

* * *

"Lily are you certain?!" Jowan couldn't believe what he was hearing. Blood mage! He'd continually turned down Uldred's offers to train him…and thought seriously about turning his teacher in. But, he wasn't a tattletale. To Lily, he only said, "How can they think that?"

She smiled sadly at him. "I don't know, but I saw the Rite of Tranquility list on Greagoir's desk when we were in there for an initiate class on the role of the Templars. What are you going to do?" Then, she got a slightly frightened look. "You're not … not a blood mage, are you?"

"What?! No! How can you ask me that question, Lily? I spend all my spare time with you." Now, he wished he taken Uldred up on his offer. "I … I need to get out of here, Lily. Oh, I wish I'd paid better attention when Anders was talking about how he'd get out." He took her shoulders. "I can't let them take away my emotions, my love for you."

"We can run away together, Jowan," she whispered. "I have a plan, but we're going to need the help of your friend Neria, maybe also Daylen." The idea briefly hit Jowan that Lily had already put a lot of thought into this. That could be good, or it could be bad. Maker damn Neria for putting these doubts into his head.

He hugged Lily and made for the door. If Lily said they needed his friends, then he'd find them. Unfortunately, Jowan almost ran right into the First Enchanter as he bolted out of the chapel.

"Jowan! Watch were you're going, young man," Irving admonished as he grabbed Jowan's shoulders to keep him from running into Duncan.

"S…sorry, First Enchanter," he stammered and then his eyes widened as he noticed the two armed men with Irving.

"Who is this?" Duncan asked.

"Duncan, this is apprentice Jowan. Jowan, meet Duncan, Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, and, with him is Warden Alistair," Irving made quick introductions. "Now, I'm afraid the wardens and I have urgent matters to discuss Jowan. Please get back to your studies." Then, he seemed to change his mind. "However, if you would, please find Neria and Daylen and ask them to come to my office as soon as possible. It's important."

"Grey Wardens? H-here?" Jowan stammered. And, asking for the very two friends he was about to go find. Then, he cleared his throat. "Yes, yes, I'll send Neria and Daylen to you and then I'll just be going to … to the library … to study." He nodded to Duncan and Alistair. "Very nice to meet you."

He found Daylen in the library easy enough and sent him to Irving's office with the request for Daylen to find him in the chapel afterwards, but Neria was nowhere to be found. This was an enclosed tower so there were only so many places she could be. After a bit of time, he found her with Anders. They were both sitting on a bench inside the large center room, next to the stockroom, with Cullen standing guard.

"Anders!" Jowan shouted, momentarily forgetting his mission to find Neria and direct her to Irving's office.

Anders looked a bit thinner than the last time Jowan had seen him, but he still had his broad smile for a friend. "Yes, it's me. Caught again by the Chantry's blood magic."

"Quiet, apostate!" Cullen said with a shove.

Neria stood up and faced Cullen. She was a bit over five feet tall, but the six-foot Templar took a step back as she poked her finger at his chest. "He's back in the tower and he's no longer an apostate, Cullen. If you Templars treated him better, he might not run away!" Her face was turning redder and redder. "Maker knows the things you Templars do and get away with in here, and you'll get your reckoning soon enough when you're all sent to the Void!" Then, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Cullen, but when you say things like that … in that way, it brings back bad memories."

Both Cullen and Jowan were speechless, but Anders laughed. "Reorrrwwww! Remind me never to piss you off, Neria."

"Are you all right, Anders?" Jowan asked when his speech returned.

"Irving sat me here with my own Templar mabari and told me to wait. Then, you and Neria showed up," Anders said. "Maybe we can see if Owain has something fun for us to do hidden away in some corner of the stockroom, eh?"

Ever vigilant to everything that goes on in or near the stockroom, Owain replied, "There is nothing hidden in the stockroom, Mage Anders. If you could be more specific, I would be better able to find what you require."

Jowan visibly shuddered at Owain's monotone voice and expressionless face with the round Chantry brand in the middle of his forehead. Owain was one of the Tranquil. "Ner…Neria, Irving is looking for you and I need to get to the library … to study."

"What does Irving want with me?" she asked.

"I-I don't know, but he asked for you and Daylen to meet with him and the Grey Wardens," Jowan said. "It sounded important, so you probably don't want to delay. B-but, please come find me when you're done."

Neria frowned. "Me and Daylen. That's weird." She smiled at Jowan and squeezed his hand. "I'll letcha know what it was about later. Get your books and go to my room. You can study there until we're done."

Cullen cleared his throat. "Neria," he shyly began but then got a bit bolder, "it's not proper for an apprentice to be in a mage's room alone." When she looked to start shouting at him again, he added, "It could get him into more trouble."

Anders and Neria said simultaneously, "More trouble?"

Before Cullen could go into a deeper explanation, another Templar entered the stockroom. His name was Ser Mettin and he was one of Alrik's cronies. "The Knight-Commander wants me to escort the prisoner to the First Enchanter's office." He sneered at Cullen. "Your guard dog duties are done, Cullen."

"Come on, Anders," Cullen said, mostly ignoring Mettin until he faced him down. "The First Enchanter specifically told me to bring him to his office when summoned, Ser Mettin, and that's what I intend to do." Then, he looked at Neria. "Come along, if you want."

Mettin looked like he was about to argue until he saw Jowan. "All right, Cullen, I'll just throw this maleficar into a cell downstairs then." He roughly grabbed Jowan's arm. "Come along peacefully or else."

Neria was about to intervene, but Cullen stopped her. There were several doors leading from the central room to the outside rooms. He nodded his head toward the stockroom door nearest the hall outside Irving's office. At first she glared at him for stopping her and then she got the message and ran off. "No paperwork has been issued yet to arrest this apprentice, Ser Mettin."

"It's just a matter of time, Ser Snitch," Mettin said as he yanked a squeaking Jowan toward the stairs to the lower floor. "It takes time to prepare for the Rite of Tranquility. The Rite has been authorized and you know it."

Cullen stepped in front of the stairway, blocking Mettin's access. "Let's take this up with the Knight-Commander, then."

Before Cullen could say anything more, Mettin released a powerful Holy Smite that knocked down both Anders and Jowan. Greagoir stepped in. "What's going on here?" he shouted.

At everyone's angry look, Mettin replied, "It looked like Anders was about to do something stupid." Everyone started talking at once. Mages were angry because Mettin's smite was felt all the way to the outer wall. Templars were on edge because a smite signaled a mage out of control.

"Silence!" Greagoir demanded and got the crowd to settle down, but only slightly.

"Irving is coming," one of the mages near the door proclaimed. "He'll set this right."

Irving did indeed enter the room through the corridor made for Neria who was dragging him, Daylen, Duncan and Alistair. "What in all of Thedas is going on in here?!" the First Enchanter demanded.

"This is Templar business, Irving," Greagoir said. "Ser Mettin was to bring Anders to your office and Anders was starting to use magic to stop him."

Irving turned toward the stockroom. "Owain, what happened here? Did you witness anything?"

"Yes, First Enchanter Irving, I did," Owain said plainly. "Ser Cullen had been tasked by you to bring Mage Anders to his office when you sent for him. Ser Mettin said he had orders to take Mage Anders to your office. Ser Cullen explained the discrepancy to Ser Mettin and then Ser Mettin declared that he would 'just throw this maleficar', referring to Mage Jowan, 'into a cell downstairs.' Again, Ser Cullen reminded Ser Mettin that it was premature because no paperwork had been issued. Ser Cullen said to take the issue to your office, Knight Commander." Owain blinked a couple of time at Greagoir. "Mage Anders is cuffed with enchanted manacles. He could not perform magic."

Anders sat up from where he had dropped after the smite and started chuckling and then laughed. "If you're going to gloss over the truth, Ser Mettin, you really need to make sure there are no undisputable witnesses in the room."

Jowan had to begrudge one thing to the Tranquil: they didn't lie…but he didn't either…well, not most of the time.

Greagoir spun to face the Templar holding onto Jowan. "Mettin!" The Templar snapped to attention. "Wait for me in my office." Then, he stepped up and got into Mettin's face. "And, continue waiting for me until I get there…no matter how long that might be…if you want any chance of remaining in this Circle."

"Kicking him out on his ass would be more appropriate," Neria said under her breath. Unfortunately, the comment was heard by everyone on the room. Irving threw her a 'you're not helping' glare.

It turned out Mettin wasn't interested in remaining in Ferelden. "I refuse to be disciplined for my dedicated and professional treatment of these robes, Greagoir. You worry me more and more that you have become a blood thrall for Uldred, an obvious maleficar who's allowed free access to the apprentices in this tower and given a position of power among the upper echelon of mages. I intend to send a missive to the Grand Cleric that you've turned this tower into a nest of blood mages and to request a Rite of Annulment immediately!"

Jowan flinched at the mention of Uldred being a blood mage, but no one was looking his way fortunately. He wondered if everyone knew and, if they did, why Uldred was still in power here. Then, a horrible thought occurred to Jowan: did Uldred tell Irving and Greagoir that he was a maleficar just to take the spotlight off himself?! This was followed by another horrible thought: _was_ Irving in thrall to the blood magic master? As much as all the mages in the Circle hated Mettin, Jowan had to begrudge he was indeed right about Uldred.

To his credit, Greagoir didn't glance toward Cullen advancing behind Mettin during his tirade. Before the indignant Templar could say another word, Cullen struck Mettin's head with the pommel of his heavy, two-handed bastard sword and Mettin dropped in a heap of scarlet skirting and silverite metal.

Greagoir then motioned for two of the nearby Templars to take Mettin to his office.

Senior Enchanter Wynne pushed through the crowd and headed toward Anders and Jowan. After a brief examination and consultation with Anders about symptoms, she said, "They'll be all right after some rest. You and Jowan go to the infirmary, Anders." She followed the mages who were helping Anders and Jowan out, but not before sending Greagoir a glare that would have rivaled the Knight-Commander's own Holy Smite in affect.

Irving stopped Wynne, "Let me know when they can speak rationally." She nodded at him and then he folded his arms. "Shall we take this to my office, Greagoir?"

Jowan sent a pleading glance to Daylen and Neria. She mouthed the words, "Rest. We'll be there soon." He had no idea what the Grey Wardens wanted with Daylen and Neria, but he was afraid he was about to be left here alone. He and Lily would have to find a way out without their help.

* * *

No one noticed the small mouse spy hiding under a table with a full view of the area around the stockroom. She wasn't the only mouse there, after all. That damn smite hurt like hell and, if she weren't as powerful as she was, it would have caused her form to falter. The real reason that the Chantry vilified both blood magic and shapeshifting was because Templars could not stop the combination with the measures they knew. Magic powered by blood would not fail, but it still hurt. Bastard.

The mouse scurried into a nearby hole and around the wall until she could make a run for an empty outside room. She noticed a Grey Warden insignia on one of the empty saddlebags draped across a chair. She knew that Grey Wardens weren't afraid of blood magic. The Tevinter wardens had many well-trained blood mages and would be a powerful deterent. She wondered if the First Warden at Weisshaupt would send them to help Ferelden or keep them back … as his Chantry-subservient Orlesian handlers would likely command. Perhaps Magister Saharius could convince the Tevinter wardens to come to the aid of Ferelden whether or not sanctioned by the First Warden. She'd mention it in her next message to the magister.

Now, however, she needed to concentrate on the situation here in Ferelden's seat of magic power. She quickly changed into a small sparrow and flew up to an open window near the ceiling. Her contact here was compromised. They knew about Uldred. She had to find out how much.


	6. The Circle Tower: Spies, Lies, Betrayal

Once Greagoir, Duncan, Alistair, Daylen and Neria were safely inside Irving's office, the First Enchanter activated a permanent enchantment on the walls and door. Irving only sighed when a small sparrow flew into his upper window. "We really need to get the Tranquil to work on a barrier for the windows in this place, Greagoir. I tire of cleaning bird shit off my books and papers." As if the bird understood Irving, it squawked, shook its wings and settled down to watch.

Neria was furious and didn't care about starting with any small talk. "What do you mean accusing Jowan of being a blood mage, Irving?" She turned her angry glare to Greagoir. Daylen was surprised that Greagoir almost flinched…almost. "Greagoir? Have you lost all reason? Jowan? A blood mage?! That's almost laughable if it weren't such a serious accusation!"

"Fear of the Harrowing has caused any number of shy mages to turn to blood magic, Surana," Greagoir said in his defense. "And, you have to admit, Jowan does fall into that category." He rubbed his forehead. "It's the ones who don't fit that description that I fear." He looked at Irving. "Could Mettin be right about Uldred, Irving?"

Irving frowned at Greagoir. "Uldred is a powerful mage in his own right. He doesn't need to turn to blood magic. He's also a very studious one and has become the Circle's best resource in finding maleficars in our midst. Some overly zealous Templars often mistake knowledge for practice."

"Uldred is Jowan's mentor. Did he say Jowan was a blood mage?" Daylen asked. His stance had become decidedly argumentative and his eyes were narrowed with indignation.

"We did not come here to discuss Jowan or Uldred," Irving replied, thereby skirting the answer to Daylen's question. "We came here…"

"Answer his question!" Neria interrupted, or rather erupted. "Did that smarmy Uldred falsely accuse Jowan?"

"We don't feel it was false," Greagoir stated. "It has been corroborated by another."

"Of course … Lily," Daylen replied as he stepped up to Greagoir. "Did you tell her to get close to him, Knight-Commander? Did you order an initiate to find information on an apprentice? Did you promise her some kind of commendation? Favor in the eyes of the Maker?!" Each question got louder than the previous and drew him closer to Greagoir.

"Enough!" one of the Grey Warden's hollered. He was the elder of the two wardens, so Daylen deduced that he must have been the Grey Warden in charge. "I think I have a solution to this," he addressed to Daylen, "if you would be so kind as to allow me a few moments."

"We're not giving you a blood mage, Duncan!" Greagoir yelled.

Neria corrected Greagoir. "A falsely accused apprentice!"

"Please!" Irving stumbled a bit and quickly became the center of attention as Greagoir and Neria helped him to his chair, thereby getting everyone away from screaming about Jowan. Daylen smirked at the old liar because he'd seen Irving do that maneuver before. "Just let Duncan speak."

Before the shaky truce could fail, Duncan quickly continued. "We believe there is a Blight coming to Ferelden. My wardens and I recently confirmed the presence of an Archdemon while in the Deep Roads. We need all the help we can get and once we have all our wardens trained and ready, we will be knocking on your door again. Ancient treaties demand it." He turned to Greagoir. "I appreciate your dedication to duty, Greagoir, but even if every mage in this tower turned into an abomination, it would pale in front of the utter destruction of the darkspawn horde."

Daylen looked around the now-quiet room. Greagoir frowned, but didn't interrupt. Neria's eyes were wide as saucers. Daylen had a feeling it was something like a Blight when Irving called him to speak with the wardens. He had just finished a special assignment for Irving about magic in the Grey Wardens. The Circle library didn't have much about them, but one thing was true: darkspawn used magic without reservation. The wardens needed magic to combat the darkspawn magic. If there was an Archdemon leading these darkspawn, the wardens would need powerful and well-orchestrated magic.

Duncan continued, smiling at Neria. "Irving told me about your healing abilities and the battlemage capabilities of Daylen. Now, I understand that another mage may be of better use to the wardens than to be constantly locked up here."

"I guess that means you want Anders, too," Greagoir mumbled, which surprised and delighted Daylen. It sounded like he and Neria becoming wardens was already approved.

"I'm not leaving Jowan here by himself," Neria announced while folding her arms. "He goes with us, too." Somehow, Daylen knew she wouldn't let it go.

Irving only sighed, as did Duncan. Greagoir, predictably, disagreed. "Even if he weren't under suspicion of blood magic, he's not even Harrowed yet! There's no way we could allow him to walk the countryside and endanger the unsuspecting faithful I've sworn to protect!" Papers flew and books toppled to the floor after Greagoir's fist hit Irving's desk to punctuate his determination.

"Then, let him undergo the Harrowing!" Neria replied, flinging her arms up in frustration and anger. "If he turns into an abomination, then kill him. I would have no argument then. But, to accuse him and then deny him this opportunity based upon the word of a Chant-beaten initiate and a senior enchanter who has also been accused is completely unfair."

"Neria, it's not that simple and you know why." Daylen was surprised by Irving's response. Actually, so was Greagoir. Irving glanced at Duncan. "It is not something we can discuss now. I'm sure you understand the need for secrecy, Duncan. Suffice it to say, our test is very stressful. However, Greagoir, you are forgetting one thing." Irving nodded toward the younger warden. "Alistair was in training to become a Templar. He could watch out for the signs just as easily, if not moreso, than we could in this tower full of nooks, crannies and hidey-holes."

Greagoir glared at Alistair and Daylen noticed that the warden stood his ground pretty well under the Knight-Commander's glare. Well, other than his eyes going wide as saucers. "Alistair didn't take his vows. He's not powerful enough to stop a mage using blood magic."

"You mean he isn't taking lyrium," Duncan said as he cleared his throat. Then, he chuckled at Irving's surprise. "I know a few of your secrets, Irving, as you know a few of mine. The difference, Greagoir, is that Alistair will still be able to subdue an abomination so that our cadre of wardens can quickly take care of the matter." The Warden-Commander then swept his hand toward Daylen and Neria. "I shall also have three very capable mages to keep an eye on their friend because they want him to succeed in a new endeavor." Duncan straightened and also folded his arms. "Besides, it seems you have a much more serious problem if one of your senior enchanters is under suspicion. Should you not be investigating that instead?"

Neria mumbled. "Yeah, tell Lily to cozy up to him next."

"Neria," both Irving and Duncan said. Duncan continued, "How long would it take to prepare for Jowan's Harrowing?"

Irving turned his gaze toward Greagoir. "I say we give Jowan a chance. Let me work with him personally for a few weeks to prepare him. When he's ready, we give him his Harrowing. We'll be there to make sure he either succeeds…or not." Irving then looked toward Duncan. "I will also discharge Jowan from Uldred's teaching and investigate the matter of Uldred's status."

"I will be investigating Uldred as well, Irving," Greagoir demanded. "Duncan, I cannot assure you…." He stopped to look over the young mages. "Any of you, that I will condone Jowan becoming a warden yet; however, I will be vigilant of his training and possible influences…both to him and from him. Come back in one month and I will make that determination. Please allow me to decide this, Duncan, and do not conscript him. There are other mages here who would be fine wardens. I do promise you one more mage warden in one month's time, but it may not be Jowan." He turned to walk out of Irving's office and mumbled, "I'm taking a chance already by allowing Anders freedom to leave these walls."

* * *

With all the attention being given to this apprentice, no one noticed the sparrow spy fly away. She was surprised at how reasonable Ferelden's Knight-Commander was. It was quite, quite different in other parts of Thedas infected by the Chantry of the White Divine … Orlais and Kirkwall, the worst of the lot. Greagoir didn't give in so much as show a respect for the First Enchanter's opinion. The two men seemed to genuinely trust each other. Very, very surprising. Magister Saharius will be very interested about the attitudes here in Ferelden.

She had to find Uldred and alert him. It took almost an hour but she overheard a conversation about the Fraternities of the Circle. One of the mages said, "Uldred, I don't want to be just free. I want to be completely invisible, gone, away from all the other mages, Templars and mundanes." So, now she knew what Uldred looked like. The library was a terribly busy place, but perhaps that could work in her favor. She waited until the Isolationist moved away from Uldred, flew down and reformed into her human shape. Her enchanted clothes were quite different from the mages of the Circle, but she had to get his attention immediately…and she did.

"My, my, I've never witnessed a lovely sparrow change into an even more lovely lady," Uldred mused.

"I'm from Magister Saharius. You're soon to be told of Jowan's Harrowing and that Irving is taking over his preparation. They suspect you of blood magic. Don't act suspiciously," she whispered. "Where can we talk more in private?"

Uldred removed his smirk. "My quarters, this floor, opposite here on the ring. I have a black bed covering and a book of Tevinter poems on my desk." The last was spoken with the returning smirk.

So, he was attracted to her. All that meant was that he would be easy to manipulate, if necessary. She gave him the briefest of smiles and changed back into a sparrow just as booted footsteps could be heard coming his way.

"Shoo!" Uldred said as he fanned toward her. "These birds are becoming intolerable!" He turned to address Greagoir and two Templars who had just stepped into the library's alcove. She flew to the window ledge far from their reach and cawed.

Greagoir threw the sparrow an annoyed glare. "Uldred," he said barely above a whisper, "I wanted to alert you that we have decided to go ahead with Jowan's Harrowing. Irving will be taking over his training."

Uldred pursed his lips and seemed to be considering the statement rationally. "Well, I suppose that should prove to be an interesting Harrowing. May I recommend that you double your Templar presence." He sighed. "Look, I hope the boy hasn't been dabbling. He could be a promising controller. But, the signs are all there. You told me you had a solid witness to him committing the act, if I recall correctly. Are you sure giving him an engraved invitation into the Fade is a good idea?"

She could tell Greagoir was giving Uldred's every word careful consideration. The Senior Enchanter was doing well. Greagoir frowned and sighed. "No, I'm not sure at all." Then, he turned on his boot heel and left the room.

She was most pleased with Uldred's performance. He would be an excellent catalyst for controlled chaos here. He was strong. She could sense it. It would take a very strong spirit to guide him. She owed the pride demon Fyrlx a favor and he would be delighted with Uldred after Ferelden fell to the Empire.

* * *

Neria and Daylen spent a good while in Irving's office getting instructions about what supplies to take and what to pack to ship to Soldier's Peak and what to pack to take with them. Neria was exuberant and excited, all while being worried about Jowan and furious with Lily. She never doubted that something was wrong about that goody-two-shoes fat cow. She was worse than the rest of them. So sweet. So submissive. Such a liar! No one was that perfect and Jowan was the ideal mark for someone like her.

Neria sighed. Maker, Jowan was the ideal mark for so many kinds of people. But, Lily would know exactly how to scare him and Neria was going to find out before she left Jowan here alone.

Upon being released from Irving's office, Daylen pulled Neria aside and whispered, "Before Jowan found you outside the stockroom and we got involved in all this, he said he wanted us to meet him in the chapel."

Neria met his statement with a blank look and then she narrowed her eyes. "Lily," was all she said as she grabbed Daylen's sleeve and headed that direction. She stopped up short and pulled Daylen back behind a column when she saw Ser Mettin enter the chapel before them. She put her finger up to her lips and the two young mages snuck into the back of the chapel. As was typical in places of prayer, the acoustics picked up any voices and they were able to hear every word of the whispered conversation.

"Initiate," Mettin began. "How goes the plan?"

"What are you doing here?" Lily replied with very stressed undertones. "Jowan and his two friends could be back here any moment!"

"Not likely, Lily." He glanced back toward the door but didn't seem to notice the ornate stone screen that Neria and Daylen were behind. "They're leaving with that Grey Warden. You'll need to get Jowan to leave without them. I'll figure out a way…"

He was interrupted by the Greagoir's voice outside the chapel. "Cullen, go get Jowan and Anders and take them to Irving's office. Have you seen Initiate Lily?"

Mettin looked around and ducked behind Andraste's statue opposite of Neria and Daylen.

"Right away, Knight-Commander. Revered Mother." Cullen replied. "She often spends time in there." Neria could imagine Cullen nodding toward the chapel so they quietly moved farther back into a dark corner. Just in time, too, as Greagoir and Revered Mother Allea came marching into the chapel.

"Ah, good, there you are, Lily," Greagoir said. "I just needed to hear your testimony once more for the record.

The Revered Mother flustered Lily as she stuttered her greeting. "M-mother Allea."

Neria could imagine Allea drawing herself up to her full height before she began. The woman was as tall as any man here and stronger than half of them. "Child, the accusations you make are very serious. Our duty here is clear in regards to maleficars, but we must be careful not to allow paranoia to subvert our vigilance. We must be certain of our accusations. Please tell us what you saw. The Maker will guide us to see the truth."

"I…well…I was in the library late one night several weeks ago, r-reading the Chant and m-meditating on the meaning." Lily cleared her throat. Neria sorely wished Jowan was here to listen to this. "I heard someone saying something in an arcane language…un-unusual for the library at night with no mentors around. So, I quietly looked around a bookshelf and found J-Jowan holding up his hand to a candlestick and then he said something else and the candlestick flew all the way across the library! After he left, I went over to the table and looked. He was reading several books about blood magic and th-there was blood in the table."

Neria was about to rush from their hiding place and scratch the lying slut's eyes out but Daylen put a heavy hand on her shoulder. This time, he put his finger to his lips.

"Thank you, Lily," Greagoir said. "Does that match what you were told, Revered Mother?"

"Yes, it does." Allea drawled out her next words. "Exactly word for word. Initiate, that was almost a clever lie. But truly clever liars know to change their stories just a bit. Inexperienced liars memorize a story and recite it as though it were the Chant itself. I haven't trained initiates for all these years without knowing the difference." Then, her tone softened. "Child, I know you have a kind heart and I do not know why you would tell this lie about Jowan. Did he harm you in some way? Did someone else harm you? Are you being forced to say these things?"

This time Daylen stepped out from behind the screen before Neria could stop him, but he didn't say anything. He only pointed to Andraste's statue. Neria also stepped out and Greagoir's narrowed eyes got even tighter, but he only stepped to look where Daylen pointed. "Mettin! What are you doing here? Before you were knocked unconscious, I told you to wait for me in my office."

The man was good. He was almost a clever liar. Neria had to give him that. He stood at attention as he answered. "I regained consciousness and my senses. I ask your forgiveness for my error in judgment. However, I cannot foreswear my duty, Knight-Commander. I returned to my patrol. I was following those two. They never spend time in the chapel so I had to wonder why they were here. I was hiding here when they hid as they heard you in the hall, Knight-Commander. I do wonder why they were here. Are they working with this prevaricator to play a horrible joke on their friend?" Neria saw Lily's eyes widen at Mettin's betrayal of her.

The silence was damning. He was convincing them! Neria had had enough. "So, Ser Mettin, if you 'followed' us here, how did we know where you were hiding?! In fact, we were here first and overheard what you said to Lily. By the way, what is 'the plan' you were asking Lily about?" She sidled up to Lily and put her arm around the initiate's shoulder. "He's the one who's forcing you, isn't he. It's all right, Lily, he's on his way out of here, just like Alrik. He won't be able to hurt you anymore."

Lily broke down in tears. "Ser Mettin told me that Jowan was a practicing blood mage." She turned pleading eyes toward the Revered Mother. "He assured me his evidence was sound, Revered Mother. All I had to do was get Jowan to perform blood magic in front of witnesses." She then turned a frightened look toward Mettin's reddening face. "He gave me a plan to offer to help Jowan find his phylactery in the repository to destroy it and then to leave the tower. Ser Mettin told me that he and a group of Templars would follow, cause some stressful situation and force Jowan to show his hand." She bowed her head in shame. "In the time I got to know Jowan, I didn't have any indication he was anything other than a perfect gentleman and scholar." She looked at Daylen. "Please tell him that I'm sorry, mage."

"Funny how she didn't stutter a bit that time," Neria mumbled. She frowned at all the irritated stares that came her way. She put her hands on her hips and glared in return. It bothered her that Lily referred to Daylen as 'mage' rather than use his name after sounding so contrite and apologetic. Surely, she knew Daylen's name.

Greagoir went to the door and called over two Templars. "Put Ser Mettin into the Templar cell on the fourth floor. I believe we may have an adjustment problem." Neria assumed that they were going to write all of Mettin's malevolence off as a lyrium overreaction. She just threw up her hands and huffed loudly.

When Mettin spun to glare at Neria, she had to step back. She'd seen that threatening look before. Neria started to shiver when the memory of Alrik taking her down to a ratty prison cell every week for over two months. He took her innocence and then abused her over and over. And, she let him because he threatened to make her Tranquil. She was an elf and a mage. She thought she had little choice. Neria would put up with anything, do anything, to avoid that living death. If it weren't for the friendship of Daylen and Jowan, and the care of Wynne and Anders, she would not have survived.

Her shiver stopped when she felt Daylen's reassuring touch on her shoulder. She turned to Daylen. "We have things to get ready, Daylen." She knew in that moment that she had to get out of here, even if it meant leaving Jowan behind for a month. She had to trust that Irving would stay true to his word.

* * *

The sparrow easily found the room Uldred had described. The Senior Enchanters had private rooms, more like closets. She snickered when she saw the Tevinter book of poems. They were rather racy. She felt fairly positive that they would be banned here in conservative Ferelden where anything fun was done behind closed doors and never spoken of aloud. The rest of his room was tidy but packed with books and assorted organized stacks of paper that held no interest for her. After a quick look around, she heard people coming.

Before the unknowns got too close, she turned the ring in her right earlobe halfway around and became a tiny mouse. It was probably Uldred, but she wasn't stupid enough to assume that. It could just as likely be a Templar inspection. And, it was. Uldred was following on the heels of several Templars.

"There is no conspiracy, Senior Enchanter," one of the Templars said as two others fanned out and began to look through Uldred's books and papers. "It is simply a routine inspection of mage quarters." One of the Templars held up several papers written in Arcanum. "Right, box anything that you think looks suspicious and we'll have the Knight-Commander take a look at them."

Uldred was livid, but gave no hint of being worried. "Do you treat Senior Enchanter Wynne's private library and journals with such disregard, Knight Captain? Do you?"

One of the searching Templars snickered but kept quiet. The Knight Captain turned toward Uldred, "In fact, we do and I shall tell you what I told her: we do this for your protection, Uldred. Studying proscribed lore invariably leads to forbidden acts, putting you and everyone in this tower at risk." He took Uldred's elbow and guided him out the door. "If it makes you feel any better, Wynne protested all the way to Grand Cleric Elemena and it did no good."

The inspection lasted well over an hour and they carted off easily two-thirds of Uldred's books and papers. The Knight Captain bowed as he and his men left. "Thank you for your cooperation, Senior Enchanter. It speaks well for you and your continued position here at the tower."

Uldred only huffed and closed his door…firmly. He stepped over to his bed and sat. "I hope you took the book of poetry that was on my desk as it was the only thing in this room that might have given me any trouble," he mumbled quietly.

She waited a few minutes to see if the Templars would return. Just as Uldred got up from his bed to sort through the mess on his desk, she scurried out from under it and reformed into her human shape. "No, I didn't take it." She grinned. "So, you'll either get trouble for it or it will go missing to some Templar's property chest."

He snorted. "Very likely the latter," he admitted. "So, you know my name. May I have the same courtesy?" He was rather handsome for being so pasty white. The etherealness of his skin was nicely countered by his dark eyes, strong nose and chin. Not many men could pull off a bald pate, but he did rather well.

"I am Xan. I come at the bidding of Magister Saharius, as I said earlier." She walked around the now-unkempt room and fingered some of the books that had slid to the side on his desk. "He is aware of the potential for Ferelden." She turned to face him and smiled disarmingly. "You have fire and drive. You know how to use the system to get what you want…" She waved her hands over the mess. "…you know how to make sure the system doesn't catch you."

He seemed pleased that she understood. "Nice to make your acquaintance, Xan. What is it that Magister Saharis requires of me?" He bowed when he said the Magister's name. Nice touch.

She sat on the chair. "I cannot stay much longer as I suspect you will be visited soon by friends of yours, but know this, Uldred. The Magister is counting on your support and leadership in the months to come. A Blight is coming to Ferelden."

At his aghast look, she continued. "Yes, it has been confirmed. Look at this as your time to shine, Uldred. Do not become a Grey Warden, but aid them to save Ferelden. Your influence … and your control … needs to grow with the military. Show them how useful magic is," she explained as she stood. "Teryn Loghain Mac Tir is a wise strategist and will insist on the use of magic if he can be made to believe it is vital to the survival of his beloved Ferelden. Mac Tir is influential. He must be made to believe that magic is Ferelden's greatest ally."

Noises were already drawing near. "Make certain you are present at any altercation with the darkspawn to show up your Chantry for the misguided fools that they are. I shall be in contact again soon, my friend." Before the noise got too close, she chanted a few words and became a raven, flying up to the open window at the top of the wall.

As she launched toward the outside, she knew she had told him just enough to stroke his ego but not frighten him to what the Magisters truly wanted in Ferelden, what Tevinter of old and Orlais had failed to do. As long as no bothersome barbarian prophet arose to stop them, Ferelden would become the training grounds, breadbasket and protected mage refuge as the southern province of the Tevinter Empire. She quickly made her way to a messenger who was waiting to take her report back to Saharius.

For the time being, she decided to follow the route of the Wardens, so she was next off to Highever, where the king was. It was also the storied ancestral home of Flemeth, the place where the greatest spirit came to the aid of the most bereaved mage. Together, they became legend. Was Flemeth truly still alive after all this time? Perhaps her ghost walked the halls of Highever's castle. Xan very much wished to see this myth and yet, feared she might just get what she wished for.

* * *

The last thing on Jowan's mind was resting. He began pacing up and down the row of infirmary beds. What were they talking about in Irving's office? Were Neria and Daylen going to be wardens? Were they going to leave him alone here in the tower? That thought terrified him. He stopped at Anders' bed. "Are you going to be a warden, Anders? Are you all leaving?" He knew his fear was apparent in his voice.

Anders sighed. "We're supposed to be resting Jowan."

"That's a joke, right?" Jowan asked with a slight crack in his tone.

Anders sat up. He drew up his knees and set his arms on top of them. "I don't know, Jowan. Maybe. As much as I hate this tower, I'm not sure being a Warden is much of a step up."

Jowan sat on the edge of Anders' bed. In a low voice, he asked, "How can I escape from here, Anders? I can't just wait to be made Tranquil. I can't."

Before Anders could answer him, Cullen walked into the infirmary with Wynne following behind. "I must protest this, Cullen!" Wynne stood in front of Jowan with her arms crossed. "Jowan and Anders are still suffering from Mettin's smite. I told Greagoir they would need rest, not an interrogation."

Cullen sighed. "I have my orders, Senior Enchanter. And, I'm not taking them to the Knight-Commander. The First Enchanter would like to speak to them." He gave them all a half-smile. "No interrogations are scheduled until the end of Bloomingtide." Then, he turned toward Jowan and Anders. "Please come with me."

"You made a joke!" Anders laughed and jumped out of his bed. He looked at Jowan. "Cullen made a joke, Jowan. Can you believe that?"

Jowan rose slowly from the bed. "W-what's going to happen, Cullen?" He got a pleading look in his eyes. "Please tell me. Please."

Cullen sighed. "I don't know, Jowan. But, it's important and, I believe, in your best interests to come and listen to what the First Enchanter has to say."

Jowan looked to Anders who only shrugged. He would have preferred knowing what was about to come. He was afraid he was walking into some sort of Templar trap. When they got to Irving's office, Cullen indicated they should enter while he stayed out in the hall.

"Come in and have a seat, both of you," Irving said as he rose from his chair and walked around to the front of his desk. He looked at Jowan for a few moments before he said, "Jowan, I am not accusing you of anything, but there is a question that must be asked." He paused. "Have you ever attempted any kind of blood magic?"

Even with the attempt at trying to ease Jowan's nerve, the young mage became very agitated and jumped out of his chair. This was the confrontation he feared the most. "I knew it! I knew you were trying to pin something like that on me!"

Irving grabbed Jowan's shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. "Just answer my question, apprentice."

Jowan looked directly back and summoned courage he hardly knew he had. "No, First Enchanter, I have not tried or even wanted to try blood magic! Ever!"

The kindly face of the First Enchanter returned as he patted Jowan's shoulders. "Good."

The rest of the time in Irving's office was a blur to Jowan. He just couldn't keep any attention on what was being said although he thought he caught the important parts. When Irving finished telling him what had transpired with the Grey Wardens and with Lily and Mettin, all Jowan could do was slump in his chair. He'd been used, horribly.

He was vaguely aware of Anders yelling at Irving about the mistreatment of mages once again, but all he could think about was that everyone he trusted was leaving. And, one whom he loved had been lying to him. She was nothing but a pawn of a crazy Templar.

Was this what he had to look forward to? Would he never have a stable life with someone to love? Friends that stayed with him? Would he always be alone to be used by the Templars in the future? Even Anders was leaving. Jowan couldn't blame any of them, and yet he still felt betrayed.

Irving was going to prepare him for his Harrowing. Was that just an excuse to get him to the Harrowing chamber after which he'd never be seen again? He didn't trust Irving. He definitely didn't trust Greagoir. Jowan didn't trust Uldred, but at least Uldred could teach him blood magic and that might help him become powerful enough to defend himself. That's what he needed to do. He needed to be able to defend himself.

He looked up at Irving and Anders when the room became quiet. "I'll see you in the morning then, Irving," Jowan said and then he gave Anders a solemn hug. "Come visit, Anders." They both might have said something, but he didn't hear them as he left Irving's office and turned toward Uldred's quarters.


	7. Highever: Howes and Lies

Daylen sort of understood why Irving wouldn't let them say goodbye to Jowan. The poor guy's entire world had been turned upside down in a few hours. Anders and Neria were another matter, though. They convinced Daylen to run interference gathering up the last bits everyone needed, while they found Jowan. They got to say their farewells and explained what had happened. All it did, apparently, was to upset Jowan even more. Daylen glanced at Neria walking beside him. He could tell that not all the moisture on her face was from the early summer Ferelden rain so he put his arm around her shoulder. "He'll be okay, Neria."

She gave him a small smile. "I hope so, Daylen, but you didn't see how depressed he was." The rain then stopped and the clouds started breaking up. She wouldn't be able to hide her tears anymore. She wiped her face and sniffed. "What I really hope is that he doesn't do something stupid."

Warden Alistair glanced back and gave the three mages a small smile and then started talking to Duncan. The other two wardens they'd met, Carsten and Orich, were joking with Anders. They were seven and a half days out from the tower, nearing the Highever Road. Duncan and Alistair were going to split off there while Carsten and Orich showed the mages the way to Soldier's Peak. Daylen expected them to assign the ex-Templar to show them the way, but then he was informed that Alistair had been teaching the others how to use Smites and Cleanses. Wonderful.

Alistair stopped until he was even with Daylen and Neria. "Duncan wanted me to ask you to work with Carsten and Orich. They're unaccustomed to fighting with magic backup." He swept his hand forward and they all started walking again. "When we fight the darkspawn…"

"Rider!" Duncan interrupted. It didn't cause the warriors to pull their weapons, but they did put their hands on their weapon hilts. As the rider drew near, Duncan raised his hand and swept it down. "At ease. It's a warden. I sent word we'd be on the North Road or at Highever."

The rider was a woman. Her blonde hair was hanging in strings around her pretty face. She must have been riding for a long time in the rain. "Warden Commander, Parsons wanted you to have the latest reports as soon as possible. He said to look at the Korcari report first." She handed a large tube to Duncan. "I need to get back to the Peak, Commander." Duncan nodded his thanks as he slipped the tube's strap over his shoulder.

She looked up and smiled at the group. "My name is Driana. If you'll be joining us, welcome. Good day to you all." Then, she turned her horse and headed back. Daylen had to admit that all the wardens so far were pretty friendly, even the ex-Templar.

The Commander looked around and pointed to an old, ramshackle hut nearby with the road to Highever just beyond. "Let's see if that's uninhabited and catch a snack in a dry place while I read these." He looked up at the sky. "Then, we'll split up. Alistair and I to Highever and the rest of you to get settled in at Soldier's Peak."

* * *

It had been raining all day and Highever Castle was full to bursting with royalty and nobility, servants and squires, fake smiles and lies. The Summerday procession at the Chantry was postponed until tomorrow, so Arlaine Cousland had to put up with everyone for at least three more days instead of two. She slipped away and hid in the stable with her three-year old dark brown mabari bitch Leale. Her sister-in-law named the pup when she saw how the mabari followed Arlaine around constantly. It meant "loyal" in Antivan and it fit the dog perfectly.

Arlaine was truly only hiding from Thomas Howe, but, as fate would have its way, he found her. Leale growled quietly and Arlaine didn't command her to stop.

He frowned as he spotted Arlaine sitting with the mabari guardian. He looked to be on his way to getting pretty drunk, as usual lately. "So, you still hide here to get away from all the crowds. I remember from when we were children, Arlaine." He walked up and held down his hand to help her up. Because of his inebriated state, his hand just waved in front of her face.

Arlaine made a mental note to locate a new hiding place immediately. Of course, she refused his hand and got up on her own. "Yes, Thomas. You never could find me then so I doubt you really remembered anything in your current state. Who told you I was here?"

"One of the elves said she saw you come this way." He sighed and leaned against a stall door. "It reminded me."

"What's happened to you, Thomas? The last few years, you've … you've really turned into a …" She groaned, reached into the stall and started scratching the horse's nose.

"A drunk? A sniveling coward?" He picked up a grooming brush and threw it against the wall opposite of the stall. "My father's son," he finally whispered.

"You could act like your own man at this particular moment, Thomas. Your father's not here yet. Where is he anyway?" Arlaine frowned at Thomas. It wasn't like his father, Arl Rendon Howe, to miss an opportunity to show off how wealthy, noble, arrogant and disdainful he was.

Thomas sighed and shrugged. "He said he had business in Denerim, something about meeting with Teyrn Loghain." He glanced out the barn door. "With the weather, he's probably delayed."

"So, Loghain's in Denerim, huh." Arlaine mused about that a moment. "He usually doesn't let the king and queen out on their own. I was surprised he wasn't with the retinue."

"Maybe he's coming with my father." Thomas' face went through a number of countenances … thoughtful, sad, like he'd eaten something distasteful and finally settled on determined.

He pushed away from the stable wall, swayed a bit, but stayed upright. "My father told me to make certain you accepted my proposal…any way I could make you. This wasn't the way I wanted to go about things, but you just won't give in."

He started to advance on Arlaine. His eyes were wild, but his voice sounded determined to do something, even if it were dishonorable, to force Arlaine to consummate a marriage prior to the ceremony. Arlaine liked Thomas, at least she liked the kind and thoughtful boy who would bring her flowers and pet puppies and laugh in the rain. Now, she only felt sorry for Thomas … and swore in that moment to make his father pay for coercing him into the confused, conflicted, morose young man in front of her. Leale started growling and Arlaine felt her begin to push between them.

"You mean your father's proposal, Thomas." Arlaine put her hand against his chest. He might try something, but she was always the better fighter when fairness and honor were disregarded. "And, I'm not going to marry you. For Maker's sake, Thomas, you're like a little brother! You're four years younger than I am and - be honest with yourself - you don't want marriage to me any more that I want it with you. I know Bann Esmerelle's daughter wants very much to catch your eye." She smiled. "And, I also know you have noticed her."

She was about to go on changing the subject to keep from hurting Thomas physically when they heard the announcement that riders were heading in. She grabbed Thomas' arm and pulled him toward the entry courtyard. He almost found enough purchase to stop her, but he was drunk and uncoordinated. He ended up stumbling by her side. "Let's see who's here." She didn't really think he'd go through with anything untoward, but it was a welcome diversion to actually finding that out.

They passed her older brother Fergus standing at the stable door. His arms were folded and his nostrils were flaring. She noticed Bann Loran heading toward the entry and wondered if he witnessed what just happened. Fergus obviously did. He was glaring daggers at Thomas. Arlaine subtly shook her head, so all Fergus said was, "Warden-Commander Duncan and Alistair have arrived. I was just coming to get you."

Thomas looked suitably abashed. Arlaine took his shoulders. "Now there's something for you to consider, Thomas. Being a Grey Warden is an honorable path in life. Think about it. You'd be away from the Ferelden nobility, away from Fergus turning you into a small puddle of bone and blood, but most importantly, you'd be away from your father."

He shrugged out of Arlaine's grasp and turned to walk toward the festivities in the main hall. "I need another ale." He staggered away.

Fergus was livid. "Was he about to … about to take you?!"

Arlaine swirled on her protective older brother. "He may have been about to try to do that, Fergus, but he would not have succeeded." She turned toward the entry. "He wouldn't be much of a man without the vital parts to make his own heir someday."

She heard Fergus laugh and then catch up to her. "Please be careful, pup, he's not the same Thomas we knew as children. More's the pity."

"I think he is, Fergus. Deep down inside I believe he's still the good friend we once had. His father sent Nathaniel off for standing up to him and Thomas is afraid of the same exile." The noise of the entry was getting louder as she added, "We just need to find a way to get him away from Rendon where the old bastard would have no recourse and I think the Grey Wardens might just fit the bill."

* * *

A raven sat atop one of the crossbeams of the stable barn, intently listening to every word of the conversation between the Lady Cousland and young Lord Howe. Magister Saharius had not gone into any detail about this Arl Rendon Howe, but he sounded like a perfect agent of disorder. As the confrontation ended and Arlaine mentioned the boy joining the Grey Wardens, Xan wondered if she should return some of the advance on her contract. These Fereldens were _clearly_ capable of fomenting unrest all by themselves. As she saw things now, her job would only need to be insuring the chaos continued.

She flew around the outside walkways of Cousland Castle until she found a lone elf servant going into the family quarter. The raven morphed into a mouse and followed the elf into one of the guest bedrooms. As she began to make the bed and clean the bedroom, Xan reformed and quickly silenced the maid before she could call out. The poor female was horrified to witness the ancient magic. She died with a prayer to the Maker on her lips.

It disgusted Xan how some elves denied their power, their potential. The elves who confined themselves in the squalor of a city alienage asked to be the mindless beasts of their superiors by their sniveling behavior. Just like this sad creature. Xan would be able to assume the maid's role and doubted anyone here would be the wiser. As for the body, there was a hearth stacked with wood, ready for igniting. A fragrance masking potion and an intense, targeted fire spell and nothing was left of the small elf but ash…and a lovely warm blaze to take the edge off the damp chill of the air.

Xan finished cleaning up the room, double checked the hearth and put a couple more logs on the fire. Then, she made certain the maid's attire she disguised herself in was in order. As she passed out of the room, she came upon the two Grey Wardens just at the door. Duncan smiled at her and thanked her as did Alistair. She bowed low and crossed the wide hallway to check out the next room. Neither she nor Saharius wished any harm to the Grey Wardens. Tevinter had its own wardens who would be very interested in helping Ferelden with the Blight. It would be preferable if the land's destruction was minimal and the wardens were needed for that.

Unfortunately, Xan missed the younger Grey Warden's confused frown when he stepped into the room.

* * *

It took a few hours, but the staff put together an emergency meeting room for the king and the wardens. After asking the servants to leave the room, Fergus stepped up to his father and whispered, "Thomas tried to force himself on Arlaine."

Bryce Cousland swiftly turned. "What?!" He wasn't whispering. And, he knew his son did not say such things without merit. "Is she all right?" Without waiting for an answer, Bryce turned to go look for Arlaine, but Fergus stopped him.

"Arlaine is fine. She handled it with a lot more calm than I would have, and I think she will be very cross with me for mentioning it to you, but the act stands. He needs to answer for that … that misconduct." Fergus gave him a half-smile. "Arlaine thinks Thomas should become a Grey Warden."

At first, Bryce looked at Fergus with incredulity; however, his gaze soon became thoughtful. "That may not be a bad idea, my boy, if Duncan is agreeable and Rendon doesn't raise too much of a stink."

Fergus pursed his lips and rocked on his heels.

"What else is on your mind, Fergus?" Bryce could always tell when Fergus had thoughts to share with him that Bryce knew he wouldn't like.

"You are his liege lord, the Teyrn of Highever. Arl Howe also needs to feel some kind of consequence, Father. He made Thomas into what he is, his arling is such a thick nest of vipers that no honorable landholders will stake a claim there." Fergus' voice started to rise. "And, then, he sent Nathaniel off instead of continuing to put him forward to marry Arlaine which would have been right and proper."

That made Bryce laugh. "Arlaine would have turned that one down on principle and you know it. She's made it quite clear to all of us that she will only marry someone she loves, someone who would ask her on his own."

Fergus sighed. "She would have said yes to Nate if it meant keeping him in Ferelden, Father. I know she would have, even though it wouldn't have been a marriage of love. They still write each other frequently."

Bryce sat heavily in a nearby chair and looked around the room. It would soon be the site of a lengthy meeting between Duncan, Alistair, Cailan, Anora, Fergus, Arlaine and himself about a serious matter that Duncan was quite closed-lipped about. The teyrn rubbed his forehead and replied, "Rendon's family has held the Arling of Amaranthine for a long, long time, Fergus. Even I can't treat him as roughly as I'd like to over this. It's not like Rendon's murdered anyone and the only one truly suffering is poor Thomas." Bryce tapped the table with the palm of his hand as he stood. "I'll speak with Thomas and then I'll talk to Rendon whenever he gets here. Now, I'm going to find my pup and give her a long hug."

"And, get me into trouble," Fergus said under his breath.

Laughing, Bryce said, "Quite likely, my boy. Quite likely.

* * *

A soft knock made Loghain look up from the maps he was studying. He was trying to plot the most interesting route from Denerim to Gwaren. After a brief frown, he called out, "Yes?"

Bronan, Loghain's soft-spoken and extremely qualified seneschal, entered the room and closed the door behind him. "I'm sorry to interrupt your preparations, but Arl Rendon Howe is here to see you. I explained your desire for privacy this evening, Your Grace, but he was insistent." Bronan cleared his throat. "He threatened personal harm if I would not at least make you aware of his arrival."

"Pompous twit," Loghain replied as he rolled up the map of the Brecilian Forest he was studying. "Take him to the sitting room downstairs and tell him I'll be there when I'm able." He slid the map into a leather case and added, "And, tell him if he harms any of my staff or even speaks out of turn, I said to throw him out into the street unheard. Take Wills with you to back up my command."

The seneschal bowed and left, but Loghain swore he saw the beginning of a smirk on Bronan's normally passive face. Wills was part of Loghain's personal guard, hand-picked and trained by Loghain for his personal protection. Actually, the guards were Anora's idea…and she voiced the real reason: to keep Loghain from killing the fools he had to deal with on a daily basis.

Loghain sighed and poured himself a large whiskey. As he stared into the fire, he lamented that Howe probably had some urgent falderal that would keep Loghain from returning to his teyrnir in Gwaren. Cailan had practically pushed Loghain out of the palace and told him it was "time for a new generation of leaders" in Ferelden. Anora put it more kindly, of course, but she said the same.

They were both right, truth be told, and Loghain knew it. The king and queen needed to establish themselves without the shadow of the Hero of River Dane standing nearby. And, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he was looking forward to spending some time fishing and hunting.

After slowly drinking his whiskey, he put the glass on his desk, slipped the map case into the saddlebags draped across his guest chair and left to speak with Howe.

The estate was already packed and ready to leave in the morning. Bronan made certain all the servants going along were already in bed asleep. The Denerim estate caretakers had all been briefed on procedures to be meticulously followed in Loghain's absence. Consequently, the old place was virtually empty.

After descending the central staircase, Loghain entered the sitting room. "What do you want, Howe?" He inwardly smiled when Rendon Howe cringed at the lack of polite honorific.

"I must apologize for the late hour, Your Grace. I know…"

"Get to the point."

Howe cleared his throat. "Yes, well," he began as he unfurled a sheaf of parchments. "A very reliable agent of mine came across these documents." He handed them to Loghain. "I think you'll find them interesting."

Loghain sighed and held up the documents. "Summarize."

"These are communiqués to and from high-placed Orlesian officials and Bryce Cousland. They are discussing mutual terms for sharing information and markets throughout Thedas as well as how Cousland could facilitate your removal from power, Your Grace." Howe got a smug look on his face. "Sharing anything with Orlais or interfering with our blessed Ferelden's military might is tantamount to treason."

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "Cousland is acting as our ambassador to Orlais and my own daughter has rightly brought up that Cailan needs the space to become Ferelden's king without me around. That may be rude, and possibly short-sighted in the long run. However, you haven't said anything that amounts to treason." He started to page through the sheaf. "I thought you and Bryce were close friends."

"We might have been friends once, Your Grace, but these documents have placed a rather large wedge in our friendship." He handed Loghain one other document. "This one spells out a plan to replace Anora with Arlaine Cousland to insure succession." His look then turned to expectation.

"That is something I had not heard," Loghain mused as he read the brief parchment. It was a letter to Cailan signed by Cousland and Arl Eamon of Redcliff. Very subtly he rubbed his thumb across the ink near the edge. It felt odd.

He walked to the sitting room door and opened it. As expected, Bronan stood far enough away to still be able to listen to the conversation and be available. "Bronan, I'll be delaying my trip to Gwaren until further notice. Please see to the change in plans and see Arl Howe to the door."

He turned to Rendon Howe. "I'll need to check on this. Don't do anything."

Howe seemed surprised. "Of … of course, Your Grace. I need to return to Vigil's Keep and await Thomas' return from Highever. You can contact me there."

Loghain didn't know if the surprise was because he was being dismissed or because Loghain hadn't gotten angry. He doubted seriously if Howe was aware of the degree that Loghain mistrusted him. He had no great respect for Cousland and his contacts with Orlais either, but at least the man knew how to treat his family. Howe sent his eldest to the Free Marches and turned his youngest son into a miserable sot. Loghain hadn't see Delilah since she was a girl. He hoped she fared well, but doubted it. Anora had her concerns as well and talked about making Delilah one of her ladies-in-waiting.

"Stay in Denerim. Send a message to Thomas," Loghain said as he motioned toward the open door. "I'll contact you at your estate here." He hated the games that nobles played. Well, he was a Teyrn and Howe was only an Arl. He could damn well wait nearby.

"As you wish, Your Grace." Howe drew himself up and quickly departed.

The first thing Loghain needed to do was find out if these documents were forgeries. Whether they were or not, he needed to travel to Highever and talk to Cousland. If they were real, no one was going to oust Anora unless it was her choice or it was over his dead body. If they were fake, Bryce needed to know he had a big problem on his hands.

When Bronan returned, Loghain quietly said, "Wake Sancia and tell her to get Ignacio here as quickly as possible. And, prepare Wills and his men for a trip to Highever soon, maybe as soon as tomorrow. I'll be going with them."

"As you wish, Your Grace." No questions. No sniveling. No judgment on the request to find Denerim's resident Antivan Crow. Bronan was the perfect seneschal and one of the few people in Ferelden who Loghain trusted without question.


	8. Highever: Plans and Schemes

"We've gotten reports of darkspawn on the surface here," Duncan explained as he pointed to an area on the map of Ferelden that was west of Amaranthine and southeast of Soldier's Peak. "We've also gotten a civilian report of smaller darkspawn altercations in the Frostbacks west of Redcliff and around Honnleath to the southwest."

"Mage Wilhelm lives in Honnleath if I'm not mistaken," Cailan said quietly. "He helped during the rebellion. I read about Wilhelm and his grand golem."

"His son is the one who gave our scouts the information, Your Majesty; however, he said that he is more than capable of insuring the safety of the village." Duncan looked through the parchments scattered across the table. "He demonstrated some magical wards Wilhelm left behind and alarms placed around the town. Nonetheless, I plan to have patrols check the village from time to time."

Then, Duncan's finger moved to a spot south and slightly east of Lothering. "However, this is the most serious incursion. The scouts camped at Ostagar, have reported a very large presence of darkspawn in the Korcari Wilds." He sighed and sat back in his chair. "The alarming part of the report was that these … darkspawn battalions … are balanced, organized and deadly, just like the patrols we came across in the Deep Roads, only larger. We are looking at a Blight starting in Ferelden. From the estimates we've received - estimates calculated by seasoned Wardens - it appears that they are organizing an assault from the south. At the rate their numbers on the surface are increasing, we may have as much as a quarter before the assault begins in earnest. We should be ready much sooner."

Fergus Cousland stood and paced. "But, it's freezing in the Korcari. I thought the darkspawn were from the Deep Roads, warmed from lava floes. They've always attacked the warm climates before."

Arlaine looked grim. She stood and bent over the map. "That's what we would expect from a mindless darkspawn. We wouldn't expect a large attack from the south. It's what the Archdemon is counting on. If they do have this 'group mind', then they are mindless no longer."

Duncan was pleasantly surprised at the young Cousland's perceptiveness. He looked around the table. Seated there were King Cailan and Queen Anora, Teryn Bryce Cousland and his son and heir, Fergus, along with Bryce's youngest, Arlaine. Duncan was disappointed that Teryn Loghain was not in attendance.

When he was told that Loghain would be taking a less active role in Ferelden, Duncan wondered why but didn't pursue the reason. Ferelden and the Grey Wardens needed Loghain's input and his possible control of Cailan's exuberance. Duncan relied upon Cailan's blind support of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden and didn't want to annoy the young king too soon in this campaign, but he didn't want him to die, either. Cailan dying would be a terrible blow to warden support among the fractious nobility and that would leave the country open to devastation.

Cailan stood and pointed to Ostagar. "This is where we will make our stand and defeat the Blight before it even begins. Like the heroes of old, we will stand up against the evil born of greed and avarice and we will be victorious." He stood to his full height, which was imposing. "And, I will be in the vanguard, standing with the Grey Wardens! Pity we won't be able to ride in on gryphons."

Yes, Duncan determined at that moment that Loghain's presence was necessary and he was about to say something when Anora pushed her chair back from the table.

The normally even-keeled Anora was aghast. She looked like she was going to argue, but then changed her tactic. All she said was, "We need my father, Cailan. He's the best to lead the army and work with the wardens to plan strategy."

Bryce quickly spoke up, much to Duncan's relief. "I agree, Anora. Do you think we can convince him to don his armor for Ferelden once again?"

Cailan gave a heavy sigh and rubbed his forehead. "It took forever to get him out of that armor and now we're going to ask him to come back." The room remained quiet while Cailan thought a moment. "I'll be busy with the Grey Wardens, so it's probably best to have him in charge of the army and militia volunteers we'll need from the Bannorn. Nothing left to do but call a Landsmeet and begin our march to Ostagar." He looked up at Duncan. "Are there any structures left at Ostagar, Duncan?"

Duncan chuckled. "It was dwarven-made, Your Majesty. The Tower of Ishal still stands along with the span across the chasm. Sections of the rest can be sectioned off for the tents of the nobility and their retainers and there's a large field for bivouac of the fighting personnel and the wardens."

"How many Grey Wardens do we have in Ferelden, Duncan?" Arlaine asked.

That was a good question and one Duncan hated to have to answer in front of this group. "Too few, I'm afraid. We have fifty scouts scattered across Ferelden at the moment and thirty more training and being trained at Soldier's Peak. Another twenty are in Denerim at the compound awaiting deployment. I'll be sending most of them to Ostagar."

"One hundred? We only have one hundred wardens?" Cailan shook his head in disbelief. "I can't imagine anyone turning down such a glorious life of service! I will support any use of the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription you need to use, Duncan. Perhaps some in the army would like to join."

Arlaine turned to Bryce. "Father?"

"Pup, I haven't been able to speak with the boy yet. I don't think Conscription would be wise in this case." From Bryce's demeanor, Duncan could tell there was a story behind Arlaine's question, but he decided not to press the matter at this moment.

"No, Father, I'm talking about me." Arlaine looked around the table ending with Duncan.

"Absolutely not, pup!" Bryce didn't realize he was crumpling a very important parchment as he spoke. "Fergus and I will be going to Ostagar and taking most of the Highever forces with us. I'm going to be leaving you in charge of Highever, my girl. That is where your duty lies!"

Arlaine took a deep breath. "We'll speak more of this later," she said quietly as she sat back down.

Alistair, bless his peacemaker soul, said, "Well, this looks like a good time for a break, wouldn't you say, Duncan?"

"Indeed it does." Duncan turned to Cailan. "I apologize for interrupting the week's festivities, but this matter is most urgent."

"No need to apologize, Duncan," Cailan said. "Anora and I have a lot of work to prepare messages to be sent throughout the Bannorn." Duncan noticed a meaningful look pass between Cailan and his queen. "We'll remain for the Summerday procession tomorrow and head back to Denerim the day after. No need to get on the Chantry's bad side."

"No more than you already are," Anora said quietly with a glance toward Alistair. "We can't have a Landsmeet before early Justinian, Cailan." Anora then looked to Duncan. "It will take that long to get messages to everyone and give them time to return to Denerim. We just concluded a Landsmeet last month and some of them are only home a short time."

Duncan smiled at the queen. "Justinian should be fine, Your Majesty, but we should endeavor to convene in Ostagar no later than early August. That will give me more time for recruiting and enable me to meet with your father." He looked at Alistair. "We will be heading for Denerim in the morning, Alistair." Duncan grinned as he caught Alistair staring at Arlaine Cousland, in an interested manner. His grin widened as he noticed he wasn't the only one in the room who noticed.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, Duncan, I'll be ready." Alistair then noticed that Duncan was grinning and his face flushed a bright red. He reached behind him to put down his mug and missed the edge of the sideboard, spilling the mug and its contents on the floor.

Anora sighed. "Oh, Alistair."

* * *

Xan completed her search of the rooms and found absolutely nothing of use. Either these Ferelden dog lords were wise enough to leave important matters at home or they simply did nothing of importance. She was inclined to think it was the latter.

She had been noticed by several of the noble's wives and children and was forced to interact with them much more than she wanted to. It made her feel uncomfortable. Elves were essentially invisible to these people, but the more she was seen the greater chance she could be discovered. She found out about the meeting too late to attend it, but it was apparent by the requests flying around afterwards that Ferelden was preparing for the Blight. From what little she witnessed of the king, he was an idiot but he seemed to have his priorities right.

"Well, well, aren't you a pretty one."

The words were slurred but Xan recognized the voice of Lord Howe. How did she let him sneak up on her?! She must be more attentive in the future and not allow these barbarians to lull her into complacency. Now, she was going to have to shape and sculpt this situation. It was too early in her investigations to become this obvious. "Just leaving, my lord. I hope the room is cleaned to your satisfaction."

He stepped in front of the door and kept her from being able to leave. "Pretty and well-spoken." He lifted her chin so she would look at him. "I always get lost in elf eyes." He took her arm to keep her from bolting and shut the door behind him. "Tell me what you require. I'm a fair man. I can make it worth your while."

"My while is worth quite a lot, my lord," she whispered seductively as her hand snaked down inside the front of his trousers. He was a fair man, indeed, if her experience with other nobility was any indication. An elf cleaning maid in the clutches of most nobility wouldn't be paid and would be killed if she protested. Perhaps this encounter would be what she needed to relax and regain her focus, not to mention potentially enjoyable.

It turned out that he wasn't a bad lover, truth be told. He was a happy drunk in bed, like most who turned to drink to drown the bitterness of their real lives. He was the son of this Arl Rendon Howe. She asked him about his father during their coupling. He was easily manipulated into telling her a great deal. Her mind was spinning with schemes and plots as she used her body to appease his carnal pleasures as well as her own.

If the father was truly as despicable as the young Cousland said and the son just confirmed, Rendon might be a better candidate, in the short term, for the demon Fyrlx. Rendon wasn't a mage, but he was a bitter, self-centered, greedy man…very proud. The Chantry seldom told its worshipers that possession could happen to anyone, not just mages. They knew this. Oh, yes, they knew. One of their dark truths, kept secret so as not to alarm the faithful. It would be a nice change of pace for the pride spirit. Once the demon was done with the elder Howe, he could always slip in with Uldred later. Keeping Fyrlx happy, kept her happy … and powerful. Xan would need to find this Arl Howe and begin the possession.

What catalyst would open the elder Howe to possession? Lady Cousland's suggestion came to mind. Thomas would need to become a Grey Warden. His son being convinced to abrogate his heritage by the woman who spurned him. That should fire the old man's pride and vengeance. It would take more blood to plant the suggestion and ensure it would happen without Xan's presence. She had to move on to the father quickly.

In the heat of passion, it was a simple matter to run her fingernail across his wrist. She could sense Frylx watching. He was always near when blood magic was used so he could amplify it. She felt his rapture at the prospect of controlling a human noble. The power the spirit sent through their link assured that Thomas would react favorably to being recruited to the Grey Wardens. Xan put Thomas to sleep and healed the wound on his wrist. He would awaken with no hangover and an inclination to better his life through service to end the Blight.

Sometimes her actions were noble ones.

Xan had her fill of Highever and was certainly ready to relinquish the role of chamber maid. It was time to part ways with the Grey Wardens and head for Vigil's Keep. She disrobed and threw the maid's dress into the fire. After shapeshifting into a mouse, she scurried to the room where she stashed the enchanted backpack and armor that would shapeshift with her. The winds were treacherous outside so she decided to wait until morning. It was warm in Thomas' room. As a cat, she curled up on the end of the bed and went to sleep.

* * *

The door to Loghain's study opened quietly and someone in dark leathers slipped into the room. "I followed Arl Howe back to his apartments, Your Grace."

"Didn't I ask for you to get Ignacio for me?" Loghain knew the question wasn't necessary – she would get around to it - but it was a game he and his Antivan elf spy Sancia played. He met her at a stopover in Antiva City while he was looking for any sign of the missing King Maric. She gathered information for him at that time and then asked Loghain for a job. She wasn't a Crow and didn't want to become one, but she had all the skills for it. Loghain had never been disappointed since.

She slipped back the cowl of her dark wool cloak. Her skin was fair, but her hair was almost black and her eyes a dark green. "Ignacio met up with Howe just outside your gate. Howe paid him for something. I heard the clink of sovereigns." She walked over to his best brandy and poured herself a snifter.

"Please, help yourself," Loghain drawled.

She grinned. "_Grazie_, Your Grace," she said as she held up the snifter to him and drank a small sip. "Ahhhh, _eccellente_." Then, she sat across from Loghain. "I believe our Crow has a … what do you call it? … a _conflitto di interessi_ … a conflict of interest."

Loghain slammed shut the book he'd been reading. "Damn." Then, he got up and poured himself a snifter. He swirled it around the bowl of the glass. "If you hadn't followed him, I'd likely be paying the forger to tell me if his forgeries were forgeries."

Sancia chuckled. "That is a good one, Loghain. I must remember it." She sighed. "Alas, I am not a very good forger … nothing along the lines of Ignacio or whomever he uses … but I can take a look, if you would like."

Loghain handed her the incriminating papers and watched as she read and studied each page.

"Tell me, are these statements in any way counter to what you believe to be true?" she finally asked after nearly an hour.

He had gone back to his desk to review new maps to make the trip to Highever as quickly and quietly as he could, as well as write a note to Howe. He thought for a moment. "What does the wording have to do with it?"

"Ah, a great deal! A good forger will weave the false so well with the perceptions of truth as to confuse the reader into thinking there may be some validity with what is said. The wording is the most important aspect to forgery of this type. It does not matter much if the handwriting matches if it stirs the readers own doubts into believing it." She waited patiently for Loghain to answer.

"Well, Bryce Cousland is spending a lot of time in Orlais," he finally said. "It would be plausible that he could be behind something, or at least, an unwitting pawn in their Game." The last words were closer to being growled than spoken.

"It is well known that he goes to Orlais, yes? And, it is also very well known by everyone in Ferelden, from the scullery maids to the king, that you despise Orlais?" Her raised eyebrows punctuated the unspoken point she was getting to.

"The answer to both of those questions is 'yes'," Loghain replied as he sat back in his chair.

She sighed and put down the parchments. "The look of these documents is very accurate as far as my less-than-skilled eyes can tell. The handwriting closely matches the sample letter you gave me with Cousland's handwriting. The paper is sufficiently aged and distressed and the ink is dried to indicate an accurate length of time since they were written." She stood. "This can be done quite easily with powders and skill…or they are not forged and are what they seem to be. This I cannot tell, _il mio capo_. I am sorry."

She walked over and sat on the corner of Loghain's desk. "I do not know this Bryce Cousland, but you do. Another thing to consider is the other side of the coin … what this Howe would have to gain by your anger with Cousland." She threw up her hands. "But, I am only telling you things you already knew." She dramatically placed her hand over her heart and bowed her head. "I have failed you."

Loghain chuckled. "At least you were entertaining." He stood and took her chin, raising her face to look at him. "And, I trust you to speak the truth." He lowered his hand and frowned. "I don't always believe what Howe says and he has a great deal to gain by his liege lord losing favor."

He turned toward the map on his desk again. "I'm going to confront Bryce and make up my own mind. Have Bronan rouse Cauthrien and my guards. We're going to take a less-than-obvious route through the Wending Wood to the North Road. I want to leave within the hour. We can make good time in the pre-dawn hours getting to the Wood and be through them in a day or two." He folded the note to Howe and sealed it with wax. "Have a messenger boy take this to Howe mid-morning. I'm telling him to return to Vigil's Keep and await my instructions."

Sancia bowed. "Shall I accompany you or…?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Shadow the ever calculative Arl Howe, perhaps?"

He gave her an appreciative half-smile. "You read my mind."

* * *

**AN:** Thank you, _Judy_, for your kind words!

Also, thanks to _Lady Cougar-Trombone_ for your chapter reviews! Yes, I believe Loghain can be, and should be, a pleasant fella...or, at least, reasonable. :) Theron Mahariel will be the origin after Kallian Tabris.

Will Arlaine Cousland convince her father to allow her to be a Grey Warden? Or, in this AU, will some event take the decision out of his hands? Hmmm.


	9. Highever and Back to Soldier's Peak

Arlaine went to the dining hall to grab a bite of breakfast before the Summerday procession at the Chantry in the city. She was extremely glad to be able to wear her own colorful clothing. There were a few moments that she feared she would have to put on the white frilly dress and take part in the ceremony announcing betrothals for the upcoming year.

As she went into the dining room, she noticed the man who was threatening to force her to become betrothed to him. Thomas was dressed, in his own colorful clothing, and was quietly eating his breakfast along with other nobility. He sat alone at a table for four. She did notice others whispering and glancing at Thomas. Rumors involving the nobility got disseminated more quickly than Leale could snarf down Nan's ham bits.

Just ahead of her, Duncan and Alistair also entered the dining hall with Ser Jory, a Highever knight who was going to become a Grey Warden. She never liked Jory. He always seemed to be more talk than substance. She did like Jory's wife, Helena. How he could leave her just before their first child was born was inconceivable to Arlaine. The wardens would be leaving this morning after breakfast. It made her sad. She was unsuccessful in convincing her father to allow her to become a Grey Warden … for the moment.

Arlaine took her breakfast from the side tables, groaning under the weight of food for all the castle's guests, and went to sit across from Thomas. She almost jumped when he quickly stood as she approached. He came around the table and pulled out the chair for her.

"Good morning, Lady Cousland," he said politely. "Would you care to join me?" he asked. He was sober, and Maker save her, Arlaine could find no indication that he even felt any sort of hangover from the day before. She wondered if he had a mage hidden in his retinue to take care of such things.

"Good morning, Lord Howe," she replied equally politely. "Yes, I think we can eat breakfast at the same table. At least, I hope we still can."

He deeply sighed and returned to his side of the table and sat down. He leaned forward and said quietly, "Arlaine, I'm sorry about my behavior yesterday afternoon." He looked her in the eye. "Truly, I am. Can you forgive me and we can get back to being friends?"

She smiled hesitantly. "Friends. I think so, Thomas. The drinking has to stop, though, for your own reputation and your sense of honor. It's the drink that skews your normally pleasant disposition." She took a sip of the berry juice. Nan, the castle's head cook and children's nanny, mixed it just like Arlaine liked it. Then, she reached over and squeezed Thomas' hand and smiled away his worried face. "Of course, I forgive you, Thomas."

He smiled back. She missed those dimples of his. "Good," he replied as he gave her hand a quick squeeze back and then resumed eating. "Nan's outdone herself this year."

Arlaine laughed but then noticed the stricken look that came over Thomas' face. She turned to see Fergus and her father advancing on the table. Fergus was nodding to the other diners nearby to give them some privacy and there was an exodus of people, carrying their plates, to the other side of the large hall. She thought about intervening but didn't. Thomas did need to pay some penalty for his actions and her father's cross look was worthy of any executioner's stare.

Thomas stood and bowed. "Good morning, Teryn Cousland, Lord Fergus," he said, trepidation clear in his voice.

Father nodded as he put down his plate. "Lord Howe." Then he gave Arlaine a shoulder hug and added, "How is my darling daughter, this morning?"

"I'm fine, Father," she replied. Then, she nodded toward Thomas. "He was apologizing and I forgave him."

Fergus snorted in that particular, big-brother way that told her she was being too nice. "Sit, Thomas."

"How are you feeling this morning, Thomas?" her father asked.

"I'm … I'm fine, Your Grace." Thomas didn't make eye contact with anyone at the table, only stared at his half-eaten plate.

Bryce Cousland was never known for losing his temper; however, when he did, he had the reputation for making his displeasure quite well known. He grabbed Thomas' forearm and leaned in closely. "I heard a most unsettling accusation against you, young man. Did you or did you not try to force my daughter yesterday?" When Thomas delayed a moment too long, he squeezed the arm and added, "Look … at … me. Answer now!"

Thomas swallowed hard and looked at Arlaine's father, fear clear in his widened eyes. "I … I'm afraid that I did try that, Your Grace. I … I have no excuse worthy to tell you."

The elder Cousland shoved Thomas' arm away like it was a hot log. He ran his hand through his hair several times and looked at Arlaine. "I'm sorry, pup, but I cannot be as generous as you. This cannot go unanswered even if you do forgive him."

Thomas mustered some courage. "I will gladly submit to any punishment you give me, Teryn Cousland."

"Good answer," Fergus growled.

Arlaine noticed Thomas' eyes settle behind her again. He was looking toward Duncan. "In fact, I … I have a proposal that you may consider enough of a punishment. I will join the Grey Wardens … now … today. I will leave with them." He took a deep breath. "But, my father will likely object strongly."

Her father turned his glance toward Arlaine and she shrugged. "I did mention it to him, Father, but he's right, Rendon will scream bloody murder."

"Fergus, ask Duncan to join us in my study, please." Fergus nodded at his father and stepped away to get Duncan. Her father rose and indicated the door. Thomas, Arlaine, and Bryce exited the room already buzzing with speculations. Fergus and Duncan soon followed and they all reconvened in the teryn's study.

Her father's anger defused for the moment, he turned to Thomas. "There is no excuse that would be worthy of such an action, Thomas. Ever. I suspect you also know that, or you would have tried to weasel out of the situation. It speaks to your honor that you did not. I know you were drunk, as you have been constantly for a while. Fergus witnessed you yesterday, but he wasn't the only one. Two stable hands and Bann Loran also saw you. Tell me why you've turned to drink. Tell the truth, young man."

Thomas looked almost as stricken as when her father was angry. "These are matters that I cannot speak of, Your Grace."

Arlaine rounded on Thomas. "I know it all changed when your father sent Nathaniel away. Why did he do that, Thomas?"

Thomas looked at her and started to answer, but then switched to Duncan. "Warden Commander, I offer myself in service to the Grey Wardens." When all Duncan did was look to her father, Thomas added, "There is a precedent in my family, ser. My grandfather Tarleton had a brother who joined. Sadly, we never heard from him again and he was considered somewhat of an embarrassment to the family, but I always thought he was brave to join such an honorable organization."

Thomas looked sadly at Arlaine. She determined that she'd had enough with Rendon Howe. She looked at her father. "The acorn may not have fallen far from the tree, meaning Rendon and Tarleton. Nay, I'm not speaking of allegiances but of temperament. Forgive me, Thomas, but I've never liked your father. I know I'm speaking perhaps too plainly here, but I believe he sent your brother away because of the fact Nate preferred the company of men to women. It was an embarrassment to Rendon."

"Pup, that is speaking too plainly," her father admonished with a glance toward Duncan.

Fergus looked thoughtful a moment. "But, it makes sense, Father. Rendon was always angling to marry off Arlaine to Nathaniel. And then, suddenly, he stopped and shoved Thomas at Arlaine. If Nathaniel refused to carry it out, for Arlaine's happiness as well as his own, it would be a very likely reason for Nate to be shipped off to the Free Marches." He got a disgusted look on his face. "I know for a fact that Rendon blamed Delilah for not trying hard enough … meaning seducing me … into marrying her instead of Oriana. Delilah's not been the same since." He quickly turned to Thomas. "Did your father tell you to force Arlaine? Force a marriage due to embarrassment?" He grabbed Thomas shoulder. "Answer me!"

Thomas looked down. Arlaine's heart went out to him, but she wanted answers, too. She stepped up next to Fergus. "Yesterday, you said that your father told you to convince me to betroth you no matter how you did it. Did he suggest that you try force?"

Duncan sighed. "Lord Howe, I will accept your offer of service or allow you to rescind it, regardless of what secrets you share in this room."

Thomas nodded. "It was almost the same conversation he'd had with Delilah about Fergus, Arlaine. Only, I wasn't as strong as Delilah." Tears brimmed his eyes, but he blinked them away. He looked to Fergus and then his gaze slid to Arlaine. "You are right about Nathaniel. He knew you would understand, Arlaine, and would probably go along with it to protect him, but he didn't want that so Father sent him away." The tears then did spill over. "I'm the only weak one. I've betrayed my father, my family and everything worth holding dear."

To Arlaine's surprise, her father took Thomas into his arms. "You are not weak, my boy. You are the bravest of them all for speaking the truth." He pulled back while holding Thomas' arms. "It takes the strongest kind of courage to tell the truth when all around have woven a web of lies and deceit."

"I don't feel particularly courageous, at the moment," Thomas replied with a sniff.

"You don't have to join the Grey Wardens, Thomas." Her father leaned against his desk and sighed. "However, I don't advise you returning to Vigil's Keep until I can straighten this out."

A knock at the door was followed by Eleanor Cousland opening it. She shut the door, walked up to Thomas and slapped him so hard he staggered. Then, Arlaine's mother turned to her father without a word to Thomas. "Bryce, the ceremony is going to start soon." She narrowed her eyes as her glare stopped upon Thomas. "If you're busy, I can make apologies."

"No, my dear, we'll be there presently."

Her mother nodded, glared at Thomas once more, and left.

Following a short pause … with an unnerving blank look … Thomas said evenly, "Actually, I think service to the Grey Wardens is still the best for me, Your Grace." He blinked and looked at Duncan. "You said you'd still take me after everything that's been said." He then became a bit embarrassed. "I … I've never traveled without servants, Commander. I could use some advice."

Duncan chuckled. "We should be able to advise you adequately on that subject. You will have a bunk and a chest at Soldier's Peak. We'll help you pack what you need from here and you can have anything else delivered there later."

Arlaine took up both of Thomas' hands. "Are you sure you're not doing this solely at my suggestion, Thomas? This is what you want. Is it?" She noticed Fergus rolling his eyes behind Thomas' back. He still wanted to pummel Thomas and the opportunity had slipped away.

Thomas smiled, with the dimples. "Yes, Arlaine. It was a good suggestion and one I should have thought of on my own. Padric Howe would have been proud of me, if no other Howe will be."

"I'll send a letter to Nathaniel with the truth in it. He'll be proud of you. So will Delilah." Arlaine shrugged. "Rendon? Well, let my father spin it favorably. He'll find a way that your father won't be able to do anything but be proud."

"No pressure there, pup," her father said. "All right then, Duncan. I'm going to take my children to attend the ceremony at the Chantry. Thomas, good luck with the Wardens. It is an honorable organization and one we desperately need with the upcoming Blight."

Thomas eyes widened. "Blight?!"

All eyes turned toward Arlaine. She put up her hands in defense. "I didn't know at the time I suggested it to him!"

"Yes, Thomas, we need all the wardens we can get," Duncan explained. "Does that change your offer?"

After another pause, another blank look, Thomas shook his head. He took a deep breath. "No, commander. Let's be on our way."

* * *

The air was on the cool side of warm. That wasn't the problem. The stiff currents were. It made Xan's quick getaway impossible. She made it as far as the lowlands halfway to Soldier's Peak in two and a half days. It would have been just as fast to walk the damn route. As she gathered some dry wood for a fire in a serendipitous, somewhat sheltered cave above the rocky beach, she suddenly found herself unable to move. The winds died down and she could hear the crunch of twigs behind her. She closed her eyes and concentrated on a mental spell that might get her released from whatever magic held her, but she was interrupted by a cackling laugh.

"Oh, my dear, do not hope for a moment you can break my hold on you," a deep, rough female voice said from behind her. "Hmm, an elf mage with knowledge of shapeshifting." The voice gained a body as the woman stepped out in front of Xan. She was a tall woman in finely crafted, form-fitting red leather armor. Her all white hair was long with two sections fashioned with stiff leather to appear like horns … not horns like an elk or steer … more like …

A dragon … could it be Flemeth? Had Xan had gotten her wish after all? She wondered if the woman could read her thoughts.

The woman in leather stepped up to the captive and put her hands on either side of her head. Without hearing a word, Xan slipped into unconsciousness with a single thought … yes, it had to be Flemeth.

When she awoke, they were both inside the cave with a fire going. It was dark outside.

Flemeth stood in the cave entrance looking up at the moon, secure enough to give Xan her back. However, she turned around as Xan slowly sat up. "Tevinter wants to annex Ferelden, hmmm?"

"My guess is you've read my thoughts somehow so why do I need to give you an answer."

Flemeth laughed again. It sent a slight shiver up Xan's spine. If only half the legends were true … "You give Flemeth too much credit, but I appreciate the caution. I simply put you into a trance, not unlike the one you did to the Howe boy, and you told me everything I wanted to know. Unlike what you left with poor Thomas, I did not bind you to a geas. I'm not your enemy and I don't care a wit about what Tevinter does in Ferelden. I only have one demand and I think you'll agree to it easily enough."

Xan furrowed her forehead. "What's your demand?" The fact she referred to herself in the third person was illuminating. Was it a demon talking? Or, was it something else entirely?

"Leave the Grey Wardens alone. Completely. No interference with them or what they're going to need to do to stop this Blight." Flemeth folded her arms and stared at Xan.

"Why?"

"I have to live here, too, assassin, and I do love my privacy. I have no problem with Tevinter running the show as long as you leave me alone. Your Magister Saharius intrigues me. I will need to travel north soon. Perhaps I'll pay him a visit." Flemeth unfolded her arms and took a step toward the fully awakened spy. "Do whatever you wish to those who hold the reigns of this backwater country. There was only one royal who interested me and he's no longer here."

"King Maric?" Xan had overheard a rumor that one of Saharius' rivals, Aurelian Titus, had him stashed away. "I understand no body was ever found."

Flemeth gave her a knowing smile. Xan hated not knowing what questions the ancient had asked her and what answers she'd given. "No body was found," Flemeth repeated. "But, that is irrelevant to our discussion here. Have fun with the Fereldens, Xan. Chaos amongst these barbarians will keep them out of the warden's way."

Xan braved a half-smile. "You could help me with the chaos."

That laugh again. "Oh, no, girl. I have many things to do and prepare for." Flemeth smiled. "Take care in your dealings with old Howe. I give you a bit of advice: pride demons prefer to have a blank canvas work from, not one already corrupted by someone else's geas. Yes, the Howe family is cursed by me up to and through Rendon's generation. You do not need to know why." She quit smiling and got into Xan's face. "Do not cross me with regard to the Wardens. I warn you. Thomas Howe will be your last interference."

Xan rose only to go down on one knee in front of Flemeth and bowed her head. "I pledge on my honor as an agent of the Tevinter Empire to avoid interference with the Grey Wardens. We have no desire to annex a blighted land." She looked directly into Flemeth's amber eyes. "I have only one small request."

"What would that be?"

"Teach me that incapacitation spell." Xan smiled as Flemeth laughed.

* * *

It took five hard days to reach Soldier's Peak from Highever and they were all exhausted when they passed under the main gate, about to be closed for the night. Duncan was beginning to like Thomas, the young man from Amaranthine, and thought Alistair liked him as well. Ser Jory's nervous conversation for the entire journey was wearing on everyone, but he was skilled with the large sword he wielded with both hands to devastating result.

During their trip here, they filled Thomas and Jory in on the standard Grey Warden recruit indoctrination and sparred with them. It turned out that Thomas had been trained on a number of weapons, but none of them in any depth. Duncan actually found that fortunate. They had more than enough front line fighters and could use more bowmen to fire at range with the mages … and pull a sword if the mages got swarmed.

Alistair shared a wealth of tactical information with them both, from Templar training and actual darkspawn battles. Fiona and Maric's son impressed Duncan more and more as a potential leader, if he could only make him feel more confident of his knowledge and abilities.

Duncan looked toward Thomas. "How are you doing?"

Thomas shrugged and gave Duncan a small smile. "As well as can be expected for someone unaccustomed to this life, I suppose." He looked at Gavin coming down the stairs outside the main doors. "A dwarf?"

Gavin was heading their direction. Duncan desperately wanted to ask him how the Joinings went, but knew he had to be patient. That was a conversation for later. When Gavin got nearer, Duncan said, "We are fortunate to have several dwarf wardens, Thomas. Gavin, please meet our newest recruits, Thomas Howe and Ser Jory. Gentlemen, this is Gavin, my second-in-command."

Gavin nodded toward the recruits. "Welcome to Soldier's Peak, Thomas and Jory." He turned to Alistair. "Could you show them both inside? Ask Drak for sleeping assignments and then get something to eat. I need to talk to Duncan for a minute and we'll be in to join you." Gavin's smile warmed up a bit. "We've got Pattry cooking now and the stew's been smelling up the place all afternoon. If it tastes half as good as it smells, it'll be the best cooking that kitchen's seen since we moved back in here."

Alistair gave a knowing look to Gavin and motioned toward the stairs to the main foyer. "Right. Follow me, recruits."

"It was nice to meet you, Gavin," Thomas replied while Jory only nodded.

They exchanged a few more niceties before Alistair took the recruits inside. Duncan waited for Gavin to begin. He couldn't recall the last time Gavin looked so nervous.

Gavin took a deep breath before he began. "Well, to make it short and to the point, they all survived their Joining."

"All of them? That's almost unheard of, Gavin. Are you certain the Joining was assembled correctly?" Then, Duncan raised his hand, palm out to stop Gavin's answer. "You used Avernus' formula, didn't you."

Gavin paused and looked at the ground. "We used Avernus' formula for the Joining chalice."

"I told you not to use that formula yet, Gavin," Duncan quietly but sternly said. "We have no idea how it will affect our wardens long term."

Duncan could tell Gavin was trying to maintain his professionalism. It didn't last long. "Sod not knowing, Commander! We're no longer in the 'vigilant' part of our duty. We can't afford to lose a single warden with the sodding Joining." He kicked a nearby stone into the cook's herb garden at the edge of the Peak's cemetery. "We're gonna lose enough of 'em to the darkspawn."

"Everything you say is true, Gavin; however, what if it only kills them later for some unknown reason. What if it has an effect we're unaware of? What if it keeps them alive now only to hasten the Calling, turning a 30-year life into ten?" Duncan sighed.

Gavin's voice rose. "The new formula kept them all alive!" He calmed a bit and continued, "Duncan, the Joining is the worst part of becoming a warden. We're helpless, at the mercy of luck. There's no way to pick up a weapon and fight a liquid in a silver cup. If there is a way to prevent Joining deaths, shouldn't we use it?" Gavin sighed and looked at Duncan expectantly. "I respectfully urge you to keep using the new formula, Warden-Commander."

"What if they become Blight-sick after the first encounter … or the fiftieth?" Duncan was calming down. He basically agreed with Gavin but they needed to be very careful. He was not looking forward to reporting this to the First Warden.

"If it doesn't work … if they get tainted … then we use the old formula." Gavin gazed intently at Duncan.

Duncan took his time responding as he pulled off his backpack. "Very well, what's done is done. Please watch the new wardens carefully. Have you done any assessments on them yet?"

"Faren's been fighting with two swords so I've got him working with Salsher. He thinks Faren might do well as a dwarven berserker. Ancestors know we could use one." Gavin chuckled. "I was afraid Sereda would be difficult, but she takes orders just like everyone else. She's already got the new wardens answering to her like an officer. We might want to make her one officially. Those mages are extraordinary. In fact, if you want to look into Avernus' work and do our own investigation, throw Neria and Anders at it. They both seem quite knowledgeable about such things." The dwarf got thoughtful. "How did the very first wardens come up with that Joining formula?"

That made Duncan laugh. "You've been a Grey Warden all this time and never asked that question before?"

"I survived it. That's all I cared to know about it until now." Gavin shrugged and raised his bushy eyebrows, indicating that Duncan should continue.

Duncan stepped closer and lowered his voice. "The rumor heard the most is that they were drunk one night and decided that in order to rid Thedas of the darkspawn, they had to become darkspawn. And, the rest is history."

Gavin only rolled his eyes. Duncan stretched his back and continued, "It wasn't that simple, of course. The Grey Wardens were first formed without much information, only a dedication to do whatever it took to end the Blight. They tirelessly sought a better way to fight the devastation, refusing to believe it was the Maker's punishment on Thedas, as so many of the desperate were inclined to believe after endless battle. As you well know, the darkspawn had already decimated the dwarven kingdoms by the time they broke through to the surface."

Gavin nodded. "Ancestors be praised that Paragon Aeducan sealed off the Deep Roads or I wouldn't be here either."

"Indeed." Duncan sighed. "However, once the darkspawn broke out on the surface, the devastation was incredible. Desperation led to experiments, sadly, not unlike the ones Avernus performed, and Alistair was so horrified by. The end result was the Joining formula. The survivors of the first Joining found themselves immune to the Taint, and after a time, could 'hear' the unspoken communication among the darkspawn. It became clear there was a directing force at work. Then, they knew what their target needed to be."

"By the Stone!" Gavin then looked around and became quieter. "Just like we did in the Deep Roads. We were … repeating history." Then, he continued solemnly. "What about the new lads? Do we give them the new formula?"

"Let me have dinner and think about it, Gavin." At Gavin's nod, Duncan started to head up the stairs and then stopped. "Oh! Before I forget, we ran into a scout for Teryn Loghain. It seems he is on his way to Highever. I gave a message to the scout that requested a meeting with the Teryn. I don't think he'll come here, but we need to have rooms ready if he does. If he sends a reply with a location to meet him, I need to be notified immediately."

"I'll see to it, Duncan." Gavin laughed. "Now, go get some dinner and some sleep before you drop right here on the front steps."

Soldier's Peak was immense. It could easily house hundreds of wardens and staff. Along with the more senior wardens, Levi Dryden - the man who led Duncan to Soldier's Peak - and the Dryden family were still finding ways to reorganize and restructure some of the interior walls. Levi's cousin Mikel and his considerable talent with metals had started to strengthen and fortify the Peak's walls and defenses.

One of the demons they killed when they cleaned out the Peak was Sophia Dryden, the Warden-Commander during the time of King Arland. Finding out his many-greated grandmother had given in to a demon was not the answer Levi was hoping to find here, but he was grateful to know the truth. And, Duncan was glad to know the real reason the wardens had been kicked out of Ferelden all those years ago.

It was the perfect example of why titles and noble allegiances had no place in the order. Maker! What if they'd had a blight while all that political rebellion plotting and subterfuge had been going on! Duncan still wanted to help the Drydens reclaim their name in Ferelden, but knew that was a battle he could not begin at the moment.

New additions to the renovation staff were Voldrik and Dworkin Glavonak, two dwarves who had offered Arl Howe help in shoring up Vigil's Keep to the east. They were turned down there. Then, they heard about Soldier's Peak. After seeing all the repairs the two dwarves accomplished in a short time, Duncan wondered what would possess Arl Howe to deny their help, even though it did sometimes stretch the treasury a bit thin. None of his wardens had a good mind for figures, and he didn't want to waste time finding one locally, so Duncan had requested a bursar from the order's main treasury at Weisshaupt. He stopped by his office and grabbed the messages that awaited his attention. One of them said to expect a Mistress Woolsey to fill that position shortly.

The walk to Duncan's quarters, on the third level, was not all that easy tonight. It had been an extremely eventful few weeks. Never, in his most terrifying nightmares, did Duncan think the young scamp from the streets of Val Royeaux would grow up and lead the wardens in Ferelden against a Blight. He expected the First Warden to send others here, but knew it would be a while before that message made it to and from Weisshaupt.

Duncan had only recently made peace with the fact that he had but a few years before his own Calling claimed his life. Now, it seemed the Archdemon would likely be determining the time and place of his demise.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks again to _Judy_ for your encouraging comment.

_Lady Cougar-Trombone_, I think obsession is the right word for how many of us feel about the DA world. ;)

_Thedas'Hero_, welcome to my AU. I hope you continue to enjoy it. Thank you for your kind words.


	10. A Few Secrets Revealed

Loghain had a decision to make. It was early morning and they were camped at the southern terminus of the road to Soldier's Peak. The scout had reported that Warden-Commander Duncan headed up the road to Soldier's Peak recently.

He glanced down at the message Duncan had given the scout: "I respectfully request a meeting with you at your earliest convenience regarding a matter of great importance to the safety of Ferelden. –Duncan"

Well, the man knew how to get his attention.

However, the scout also reported that the king's retinue was traveling on The North Road, less than a day away, heading back to Denerim. They would be passing Loghain's camp in a few hours. Cailan and Anora must have left Highever early. Why would they leave early? Did it have something to do with the 'matter of great importance'?

"Wills, tell Bartleman to cook a hot breakfast this morning." Loghain folded the note and put it into a hidden pocket inside his tabard, right next to Howe's documents. "Have one of the men get a message to the king and queen that we await their audience." He waved his hand. "Tell the king we'll have a good lunch ready for them or somesuch. Report this to Cauthrien. She'll know how to put things together."

"Right away, Your Grace. The men will be grateful for a hot meal … two hot meals." He bowed and left.

It didn't look like Loghain was going to be doing any hunting near Gwaren any time soon, so he appointed himself procurer of meat for the royal luncheon. He took Wills and four of his guards with him, all armed and skilled with melee weapons and bows.

"What do you suppose the Grey Warden Commander wants to tell you, Your Grace?" Wills asked as they headed into a wooded area. The trees weren't as tall here in the northlands but some of the areas were just as thick and inhospitable with undergrowth.

"I hope it's merely to discuss coordination between our military forces." Loghain looked for an opening in the brambles. "Make no mistake, the wardens are as military as we are. Keeping lines of communication open is the only way we can be sure these wardens aren't part of a secret conduit for Orlais to infiltrate us."

One of the men chopped away some of the thinner underbrush. "Do you think they're Orlesian spies, Your Grace?"

"It wouldn't be the first time Orlais tried to use one of our institutions against us." Loghain spotted an elk illuminated in a shaft of sunlight and pointed. It was out of range and they were too far upwind at the moment. It would take some time to hunt this one, so Loghain motioned to circle around downwind. "I met Duncan when Orlais tried to set up a base of operations at the Circle Tower."

Wills caught on and had his men spread out. "I remember reading about that somewhere. You once again had to save Ferelden at that time."

Loghain huffed quietly. "If I were to be honest, Duncan saved Ferelden that day. He was a thief, but a lucky one. Lucky he was conscripted from the hangman. Lucky enough to steal an enchanted blade that got through the magic defenses of the then First Enchanter. Spying Orlesian bastard. I suppose that made Maric lucky, too. I'm certain the First Warden thought we would be more open to a native Ferelden when our first Warden-Commander Polara died."

Wills shot a quick glance at Loghain. "I thought Duncan was from Orlais."

"Born here, raised there when his Highever father and Rivani mother had to leave to find work and ended up in Val Royeaux. So far, Duncan's been mostly up front and honorable." Loghain put a finger to his lips to indicate they maintain silence from then on. He quietly stepped over twigs and dry leaves. Blasted trees with leaves. Needles were quieter, although they sometimes hid dry twigs. In due time he found a good spot to fire from and slowly raised his bow with an arrow already nocked. Such a fine creature needed an instant death with no pain. The stag lowered his head, burdened with what had to be an incredibly heavy pair of antlers. When he raised it again, Loghain let loose his arrow which imbedded itself directly at the back of the head, through to the brain. The elk fell to the ground, unmoving.

While his men were cheering the shot, Loghain walked up to the creature. "Dress it out quickly and get it back to camp so it can be fully utilized with none going to waste."

The cheering stopped as the soldiers began to field dress it, leaving the entrails for the forest animals to eat. Wills stood next to Loghain as they were finishing up. He was about to say something when Loghain heard a snap and crunch in the woods behind them, slightly to both the right and left. Maybe trees with leaves weren't always a bad thing.

Loghain raised his hand and moved his forefinger in a circle. Wills almost imperceptibly nodded and stepped up to the men tying the carcass onto a long, sturdy branch, repeating the hand signal to them.

They managed to get their weapons out in time for the ambush to fail. Surrounded by hideous, malformed creatures, his men quickly formed a semicircle, preparing to do battle. "Darkspawn!" Wills shouted as he gave Loghain a side glance. "Let's not become fodder for them, men!"

"And, keep your mouths shut. Don't swallow any of their blood," Loghain added as chopped off the arm of one of the creatures, spraying the nearby tree with black ichor that passed for blood in these monsters.

The battle was fierce. Loghain had fought darkspawn before. They were determined but their single-minded attacks were easy to defeat. They mindlessly attacked until they killed you or you killed them. Today, however, when it became clear the darkspawn's ambush failed to take Loghain and his soldiers by surprise, the darkspawn broke off and retreated. Loghain knew he had too few men to chase them. Fortunately, they retreated further into the woods, away from the camp. Unfortunately, Wills lay on the ground, covered in his own blood as well as that from the darkspawn.

"He stepped in front of that big one that was trying to flank you, Your Grace," the soldier kneeling next to Wills said. He looked up. "He's still alive, but he could be tainted," the soldier added quietly.

Loghain wasn't even aware Wills had done that. He looked around at the placement of the darkspawn corpses and knew instantly that the soldier was right. He frowned. Maybe he was getting too old for this. "Let's get him back to the camp."

He looked at the soldier kneeling next to Wills. "Run back to the camp and get the fastest horse we have. Ride to Soldier's Peak and fetch the wardens. Tell them we have an injured, possibly tainted man and see if they have any magic healing available."

As the man ran off, Loghain felt Wills hand on his arm. "If I'm … I'm a danger, Your Grace, you must … must kill me."

Loghain put his gauntleted hand over Wills' hand. "If we exhaust all possibilities of saving you, I will be the one to make your journey to the Maker quick and painless, Wills. I promise you that." The man had just saved his life. Loghain wasn't used to that. There were few times in Loghain's long life when he felt helpless. This was one of them. The Taint from darkspawn blood meant life as a monster.

Loghain looked up and saw that the elk had been miraculously spared of darkspawn corruption. He nodded to the two strongest amongst them. "At least the elk was spared. You two take it. I'll help Wills. Keep your eyes keen for another attack." Fortunately, another attack didn't happen.

It didn't take long to get back to camp, now abuzz with news from the soldier/messenger and the arrival of the king and queen, who were still an hour or so away. Loghain told everyone to stay away until he could remove all of Wills' gear.

He gave orders to the men from the battle to go away from camp to clean off their armor and weapons and orders to the ones left in camp to take care with any darkspawn tainted clothing, wrap their hands with oiled cloth and then burn all cloth that came into contact with the darkspawn ichor. His tabard was going to be thrown on the fire, so he removed the documents and stowed them in his saddlebags until he could put on a clean tabard. He stayed a moment to see that his orders were carried out and then followed the soldiers to strip down and clean up himself.

At a cry of "Ho! Above!" Loghain looked up and saw a dragon circle overhead and then head south. Some superstitious idiots would no doubt call it a sign of perilous times to come. Damn dragons. Why couldn't they just stay extinct?

* * *

Rendon Howe was definitely paranoid … greedy, devious, ruthless, and, yes, insane. Xan couldn't tell if it was from Flemeth's curse or just the fall of the man due to his own upbringing and circumstances. Now that Xan had spent some time watching the noble, she decided to heed Flemeth's warning either way. Fyrlx's possession of him would truly make no difference at all and would likely annoy the demon.

The night before, she discussed the change in plan with the pride spirit when she entered the Fade. She understood the demon's disappointment; however, he was still filled with anticipation about possessing Uldred. He only awaited the signal Xan would give him to enter Uldred's dreams and promise him whatever he wanted. The wardens needed to end the Blight first. Once that happened, Fyrlx could offer Uldred the power he would need to become Ferelden's first Magister.

Xan's thoughts were interrupted by yelling and scuffling in the throne room of Vigil's Keep. As a raven, she was tucked into the corner of a crossbeam in a dark corner of the huge room. She felt it was better to become a bird and watch from above. Not to mention, easier to escape if necessary.

"But, Your Grace, you cannot win this! Our forces are numerous but untrained!" Varel, Howe's seneschal was a reasonable man. And for all his reasonableness, he was being dragged to a dungeon cell. Today's message that Thomas Howe had joined the Grey Wardens met with the overreaction Xan had been hoping for, even though it may not have been necessary, truth be told. Howe was already planning to march on and take Highever by bloody force. "Appeal to the Grey Wardens and Teryn Cousland! Your Grace, please stop this act …"

The door slammed shut, leaving the raven alone with Rendon Howe. He started to throw things into the large firepit in the center of the room. Some of the items caused a flare-up that illuminated the ceiling and sent sparks flying. As if his spiteful anger might become a solid thing and come after her, the raven slipped farther back into the shadows. No one dared to enter the room. After a long tantrum, the man pulled a small journal from a pocket inside his doublet. He didn't open it. He only sat on his throne and simply stared into the now-dying blaze. Finally, he rose, dropped the book into the fading fire and left.

Xan didn't wait before gliding down, shapechanging into herself, and grabbing the book out of the fire. The heavy leather cover was scorched, but the pages were still intact. She slipped it into her pack and, literally, walked out the front door. No one was around inside the keep, all in fear for their lives if spotted by the raging arl. In short order, she reached her warded camp in the woods far from the front gate of the ancient keep.

Once inside the perimeter of her wards, she was able to start a fire, make her dinner from the food she stole from the kitchen, and open that book. "Teryn Howe" was written inside the front cover. It was a detailed multi-generation plan to take over the terynir.

It was a fascinating, yet disturbing read, getting more and more depraved as it went on. Each generation of Howe from sometime during the occupation of Orlais had a part to play. Each "failure" was carefully noted and alternate plan painstakingly described. Xan thought about Flemeth's warning. One version of the legend said that Highever's Conobar killed Flemth's lover Osen, but maybe a Howe had something to do with it? But, that was speculation for another time.

Rendon's father, Tarleton, failed to exert enough influence with the Orlesian emperor to achieve the goal of Highever teryn. When it started to look like the rebels might actually win, Tarleton convinced Rendon to become a loyal member of the rebellion so he would be rewarded. It read, "It wasn't easy to get Rendon to give up his Orlesian appetites!" That information could be useful. The entire book was a goldmine of blackmail bits.

Rendon failed to outshine Cousland and had to wallow as the Arl of Amaranthine instead. Amaranthine had the busiest port in Ferelden with shipping from all parts of the Waking Sea! Stupid bastard failed to see what he did have just because his ancestors deemed it irrelevant. Perhaps Flemeth's curse made him blind to what he had. Or, maybe he was just a fool.

Here, the notes got somewhat disgusting. Rendon had locked his wife in their bedroom and forced himself on her repeatedly until she gave him Nathaniel. Xan had to close the book and pace around her camp for a time. She thought she heard someone at one of her wards but no one was there. Reading this jounal was making Xan paranoid.

His daughter, Delilah, refused to try to seduce Fergus Cousland into marrying her. The daughter was now locked in a tower of the keep until Rendon could find a use for her. Nathaniel, the oldest and heir to Amaranthine, fell in love with a male soldier in Highever instead of becoming engaged to Arlaine Cousland. (He got exiled to the Free Marches.)

Why would the fool document such things?!

The last paragraph read: "Thomas is off to Highever in my stead. He is charged with raping Arlaine Cousland to force a marriage. Once he is married to her and she produces a male heir, it is easy enough to have Fergus removed, leaving the way for Arlaine to become Teyrna, only one death until Teryn Howe takes over. To safeguard the endgame, in the event Thomas fails, I am riding to Denerim to give Loghain documents of Cousland's collusion with Orlais as well as his signature forged to the bottom of a letter Eamon wrote to Cailan urging Cailan to set Anora aside for Arlaine."

Eamon? Arl Eamon Guerrin? Xan started laughing. The elder Guerrin was known to be as slick as hot oil on warmed marble. Saharius even had a spy in Guerrin's household who sent word that the male heir to Redcliff was a mage. Unwittingly, Rendon played into Saharius' strategy and delivered the first blow to Eamon, who was on the list to be eliminated from the nobility before Tevinter claimed Ferelden. His brother, Teagan, wasn't well known. Fortunately for him, "not well known" meant "not a current target".

She was already late for her rendezvous with Caladrius in Denerim. Just as Saharius counted on her for details, Saharius counted on Caladrius for slave stock. The information she'd gathered in the north part of Ferelden would make up for her tardiness. Both Highever and Amaranthine had alienages. Slave stock almost boxed and tied up with a bow. With possession of Rendon's journal, it would be easy to blackmail him into selling the Amaranthine elves to Caladrius. If he managed to take over Highever, that alienage would also be ready for shipment to Minrathous. Tevinter needed the mewling elf slaves and Caladrius needed to get them out of Ferelden before the Blight killed all his merchandise.

* * *

Loghain had a conference with Cailan and Anora before he took one of the wagons from the king's retinue and headed to the Peak with Wills and a few of his guard. Both the king and queen had seen the letter from Eamon; however, Bryce had not signed it and there was no mention of Arlaine. In fact, reading the forgery brought grins to both Anora and Cailan. Apparently, Lady Cousland consenting to marry Cailan was so ludicrous as to be laughable. Loghain didn't know Arlaine all that well, but he'd heard she was the perfect melding of her diplomat father and ruthless, outspoken mother.

Cailan told him that Eamon suggested a union with Empress Celene of Orlais! The king once looked up to Rowan's brother, but Uncle Eamon made Cailan angry with the suggestion to set Anora aside. When Cailan found out what Eamon had done with Alistair, the king shut the door on any family feelings for Eamon.

When Loghain asked them why he hadn't been told, Anora pointed to the chair that he had just turned into a pile of tinder. Eamon even had his Orlesian bitch of a wife suggest the idea to a friend of a friend of Celene. Traitorous duplicitous bastard. Yes, he would love to turn Eamon into a pile of bone, not unlike that chair.

Then, Loghain smiled. Not the smile of a man who was out for blood. It was the warm, expectant smile of a man about to become a grandfather. Vengeance of a kinder sort. Anora had wanted to wait a while longer before telling anyone, but she was pregnant. That fact would blow Eamon's plans out of the water as surely as Loghain's hands around the deceitful man's throat. Since they needed the old bastard's support to sway the Landsmeet to declare support for the Grey Wardens, Cailan and Anora got Loghain's promise he wouldn't do anything yet. Yet.

The reports about Orlais were at the request of Anora. Loghain just had to accept that his daughter knew The Game as well, if not better, than most Orlesians. It bothered him more than he cared to admit that his daughter was such a good liar, but she was also a good queen. Cailan was a flighty fool with more learning from books than life, but he loved Anora. That fact had saved the young king's life on more than one occasion. Anora was level-headed and no one in all of Thedas was more determined, some might say stubborn. Loghain took pride in both those descriptions because he knew she inherited them from him. After fond farewells, Loghain left for Soldier's Peak.

The travel while escorting a wagon was slow and tedious. Fortunately, Loghain and Wills along with their escort were met on the road a half-day from the Peak by Duncan, Alistair and a mage named Anders. He expertly healed Wills injuries, but made it official. Wills was tainted. When asked if becoming a warden would cure Wills, Duncan skirted around a direct answer. Damn warden secrets. Duncan invited them all up to the Peak so Wills could recuperate a day or so and Duncan could have a meeting with Loghain.

So, here Loghain was, waiting for Duncan in the Warden-Commander's office and he meant to get some of those warden secrets out of Duncan right now.

"I'm sorry to make you wait, Your Grace," Duncan said as he entered the room and soundly shut the door. He looked sad and tired as he passed his hand over a carving in the door. "My mages tell me this is a rune of silence, so anything we speak of in this room will remain between the two of us."

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "So, if I were to assassinate you, no one would hear."

Duncan chuckled. "Or, the reverse, Loghain, but let's not worry about such things right now." He motioned for Loghain to sit at one of the two chairs in front of the fireplace. "Brandy or whiskey?" he asked as he stepped to the sideboard already prepared with decanters of amber liquid and glasses.

"Nothing for me right now." Loghain sat in the indicated chair. "I'd rather get some answers … some real answers … to questions that have been raised."

Duncan chose the whiskey. He poured himself a small amount and downed it. Then, he put down the glass and sat across from Loghain. "I know I can't bind you to not revealing what I'm about to tell you, but I ask it all the same. As I just told the tale to one of my wardens recently …. " He went into depth about how the Grey Wardens first came about and how Grey Wardens come about in the present.

"The formula has been refined and improved, but there is no guarantee that undergoing the Joining ritual will save your man." Duncan sat back in his chair. "I just lost a recruit during his Joining. Thomas Howe survived but Ser Jory of Highever did not. If it does save Wills, he will no longer be under your command. He will be a Grey Warden, with all the duties and responsibilities … and sacrifices … that go with it. He will answer to his superiors in the Wardens."

Duncan frowned as he seemed to struggle with whether he should say more. "And, surviving the Joining does not mean a long and easy life. Wardens face lethal danger frequently. And finally, the Joining does not eliminate the Taint. It only slows it down." Duncan rolled up a sleeve of his loose casual shirt and showed Loghain dark streaks running down his arm toward his forearm. "Wardens have about 30 years before the Taint calls in its marker. We denote that time as The Calling and usually head to Orzammar to enter the Deep Roads and kill as many darkspawn as we can before we are killed. You witnessed several of the wardens in the Circle incident long ago who had The Calling soon after."

Halfway through the lengthy explanations, Loghain walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy and returned to his chair. By the time Duncan was finished, Loghain had finished two. "I see why you keep those small details a secret. No one in his right mind would swallow poison on the chance to become a Grey Warden. However, you should know I shall share this with Wills, Duncan." He raised his glass to Duncan. "Gutsy move to accept Thomas Howe, by the way. I don't know all the details. Anora only mentioned it. But, I believe I would have left him with the inability to ever have children if I'd been Arlaine's father."

Duncan sighed. "I think Bryce did consider that, but he calmed down. Thomas is a fine addition to the Ferelden wardens. As for your man, I only ask that you speak with him in here." Loghain nodded. "Now, I have some maps and reports of darkspawn activity that I would like to go over with you."

"Cailin briefly told me that you think a Blight is coming to Ferelden."

"I know it is so, Loghain." Duncan went to a table next to his desk and Loghain followed him. Several well-annotated maps were spread out along with written reports to the side. Warden maps were a prize and Loghain knew quality when he saw it. "Wardens can sense darkspawn. The longer one is a warden, the more clear that sense becomes … to the point of being able to listen in to their group mind."

Loghain sat on the corner of the table. "You said that it took a warden to kill the Archdemon Dumat, but you didn't say why."

Duncan looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know if I should tell you, Loghain."

"The Wardens keep too many damn secrets and insist on too much being believed on faith, Duncan." Loghain leaned forward until Duncan looked at him. "I'm not much of a faith man. Don't keep this from me. Are you afraid I won't help you when the time comes?"

Duncan leaned his hands on the desk. "No, my friend, I'm afraid you will."

A raised eyebrow and crossed arms were Loghain's only response.

"I told you that the Archdemon Dumat arose again after they thought it killed. After the Archdemon's death, its spirit was drawn to the Taint. It was reborn in another darkspawn and reformed into the Archdemon; hence, the First Blight went on seemingly forever. The darkspawn have no souls, so it was an easy matter for the Archdemon to inhabit another of its kind." Duncan paused. "Grey Wardens do have souls. But, we also carry the Taint. If an untainted individual kills the Archdemon, the beast is reborn. If a Grey Warden kills the Archdemon, thereby insuring the closest being also carries the Taint…."

"The two souls collide and the Archdemon is killed. I assume the Grey Warden also dies." Loghain still could not understand why this was a secret. Then, something dawned on Loghain. "Are you saying that Alistair may be the one to die?"

"Traditionally, the honor goes to the senior warden, in this case, me, but no one can insure I even survive to that final battle. It will be up to the wardens who actually face the Archdemon … and that might be Alistair or it might be your soldier, Wills, if he decides to join the Wardens, or it might be someone who hasn't been recruited yet. And, no I won't accept you as a Warden, Loghain."

"Why not?"

"Because you have another, more important, part to play in the upcoming months and years. You have to keep Cailan alive and Ferelden strong. Make no mistake, word of a Blight here will make Ferelden more vulnerable. You can bring your considerable martial abilities to bear on anyone or any country who tries to interfere. I can spread the word about the horror of the Blight and the terror of the monsters that spread it. But, you can knock Cailan out and tie him up to keep him away."

Loghain laughed, a hearty honest laugh he hadn't enjoyed in a long while. And, in that moment, he realized exactly why the Wardens kept the secrets they did. It was their role and duty. Kings and emperors and magistrates had to be kept away at all costs. Glory seekers and holy warriors must find no honor to latch onto here. The horror and evil had to be spread to the corners of Thedas, so the rational man would stay away. Some things were just not worth the fame. There was no glory to ending the reign of the Archdemon.

There was only silent sacrifice.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks to my reviewers! And, welcome to the story's followers!

_Lady Cougar-Trombone_, Avernus' experiments were horrifying and intriguing. It stands to reason that he would come up with a number of interesting things in all those centuries, yes? :)

_Judy_, we'll have to see if Duncan takes a step toward uber-warden. :)

_Thedas'Hero_, may the tale of Ferelden from this bard's telling remain refreshing for you! :)


	11. A Threat and An Apology

Loghain paced in the Peak's entry courtyard between the main gate and the front doors to the keep. Loghain's men sat around him on whatever was available to use as a chair. It was a pleasant summer evening at Soldier's Peak so he decided to go informal: loose brown shirt with placard laces undone, light leather pants, soft boots. The night sky was clear and filled with stars, the moon waning.

The Teryn had explained the situation to Wills. He told him he had a choice of becoming a Grey Warden along with details of the ritual and no guarantee of survival, or declining into madness, eventually to be killed with Loghain's dagger in the heart. There were no other options. Wills balked the most at leaving Loghain's command. The boy was one of his best soldiers. One of the few he could always count upon to follow orders with no questions. Wills decided to undertake the Joining and his friends now sat here to await the outcome.

Noise from the gate caught everyone's attention. Someone was insisting on entrance and Loghain heard his name used. The lilt of the female Antivan accent told him who it was. "Let her in. I know her."

Sancia walked in. Her left arm was crudely bandaged and in a sling. Loghain turned to the nearest man. "Get Warden Anders here as soon as possible." The man nodded and went on his way.

"_Mio capo_, I have a great deal to tell you, but it must be private."

"As soon as we get that arm looked at…" He motioned toward the stairs to the inside.

"This? Pfft, it is nothing." She winked at Loghain. "You should have seen what my opponent looked like." She moved closer to Loghain. "After I left him, he looked quite dead, I'm afraid."

The heavy doors to the main entry opened and his man returned with a petite elf in tow. "Warden Anders was in the Joining so they pointed me to her."

"I'm Neria." With a glare to the soldier who came with her. "And, I'm every bit as good as Anders." She ran up to Sancia who seemed to appreciate Neria a great deal.

Sancia waggled her eyebrows at Loghain. "If I did not have information that was so important, Warden Neria, gentle purveyor of good health for all here, I would enjoy nothing more than succumbing to your tender care." Loghain had forgotten that Sancia was attracted to a pretty face, no matter the gender of the wearer.

That got a surprised look from Neria, followed by a blush strong enough to be seen even in the low torchlight. With a few whispered words, Neria's hands glowed light blue. She ran them over Sancia's arm. "That should help with any pain, but don't take too long to find me later."

"_Meraviglioso_!" Sancia patted the hand still on her arm. "Thank you so much, Neria."

"Do you think we could use Duncan's office, Warden?" Loghain already knew how to operate the rune on the door from his meeting with Wills.

"Um, no." At Loghain's raised eyebrow, she added, "The Joining took place in that room since it was only one..." Neria smiled shyly, "...and we have so any 'civilians' in the keep. The new warden is resting on a cot in there. Anders will skin anyone alive who disturbs him."

"Wills made it?" All the men rose and crowded around the small elf.

"Good evening, Teryn Loghain, gentlemen," Alistair said as he walked down the steps. "Seems like Neria just spilled the news. I understand that stealing others' thunder is something I should expect from Neria."

The men all took a well-deserved breath and started talking at once. Loghan gave a quiet chuckle at Neria's response of punching Alistair on the arm before looking back at Loghain. "You can use the armory, Teryn Loghain. Your men can watch the door and Alistair can sweep up afterwards."

"Ow! You're mean!" Alistair was such a boy. Then, Loghain stopped that thought. This Theirin warden had been brow-beaten to be subservient, tucked away at the Chantry for reasons Loghain had his suspicions about, and then conscripted into the Wardens. In point of fact, Alistair was more like Maric than Cailan was. Maybe hardship brought out the Theirin charm. Maker knew Cailan never had any hardship in his life. Loghain had to admit that he hadn't been fair to Alistair all these years.

"Thank you for the good news, Neria … and Alistair."

Alistair cleared his throat. "We are very lucky to have a new warden trained by you, Teryn Loghain. I'm sorry for the circumstances. Follow me inside and I'll show you to the armory." He stopped and winked at Neria. "Then, I'll go get the broom."

"Alistair." Loghain paused a moment but Alistair remained quiet. "I would also like to speak to you before we leave."

"Of course." Alistair opened the door and led them inside. "I'll look for you once you finish your conference with your … your agent," he said as he nodded to Sancia. "Duncan and I are hoping to leave for Denerim mid-morning tomorrow."

As much as Loghain hated the fact that Alistair existed, he could not find it in his heart to hate the man he became. The one person in Ferelden who Loghain intensely hated at the moment was Isolde Guerrin. It made him wonder if Orlais, through connections with Isolde, had anything to do with Maric's disappearance. Recent evidence pointed to a definite link between Isolde and her Orlesian family and the Divine, who Loghain felt was a pawn of the Empress. But then, Loghain had to admit, he always thought Orlais was at the bottom of any problem in Ferelden.

Only because they usually were.

* * *

"Anora! If we send out one more messenger before we get to the palace, we won't have a guard detail left! We'll be home in a few days!" Cailan was beside himself. Anora was so like her father. Single-minded and stubborn, magnified one-hundred-fold by her pregnancy.

She threw down the quill she'd been using and it splurched ink all over the desk and Cailan's pants. The fact that not one tiny speck of the ink dotted Anora's pristine lavender robe did not escape Cailan's attention. Even ink wouldn't dare! "Andraste save you, Cailan! We have to get notices to all the nobles as quickly as we can so we simply cannot wait until we are safely behind palace walls." Before Cailan could open his mouth to reply, she huffed and held up her hand. "But, I have to admit you may be right this once."

The king almost choked on his unspoken argument. "Well … yes … of course …" He came over and gently squeezed her shoulders. "I would hug you now but the ink on my pants would surely dirty your robe and it would make you cross."

He could see it. The smile. It was there. He knew it. The corners of her mouth drew up. Of course, to prove him wrong as she always did, she hugged him tightly. "Shut up," she whispered into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back.

She soon broke the hug and threw up her hands while pacing. "Cailan, we've just gotten the nobles to consider working together. We've got a plan in action with Orlais. We're making allies with Starkhaven and Ostwick and secret plans with Nevarra." Then, she pounded the table once with her perfect fist. "And then the Maker rewards us with a Blight?!"

Cailan couldn't help it. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't help it. He sat down in the chair she'd been sitting in and laughed loudly and long. When he could open his eyes again, he knew what would be facing him and, there it was! The Mac Tir scowl!

As he tried to catch his breath, he held up one finger. "First, the day Ferelden nobles work together is the day the Maker returns to Thedas." A second finger joined the first. "Our plan with Orlais is to play their Game on their terms with their rules. Until we get them to dance to our dance with our tune, it's really no different than always." Third finger. "I'll grant you things are going well with the Vael's in Starkhaven, but Ostwick? Too much interference from Kirkwall influence there. Must be a port thing." Four fingers. "Our secret plans with Nevarra will erode anything we play with Orlais when they come to light and you know they'll come to light." He flung his arms up. "They always do!"

Finally, he stood and took Anora into a gentle hug, resting his chin on top of her head. "And lastly, the Maker has turned his back on his children until The Chant is heard in all corners of Thedas and I haven't heard the Qunari incorporating it into their Qun just yet."

She allowed a few minutes in Cailan's arms before she pushed away again. "I knew teaching you the way I viewed politics and diplomacy would come back to haunt me."

He waved his hand as if shooing away a fly. "Most importantly, none of that matters."

She spun on him with her hands on her hips. "What?"

After putting his hand on her growing middle, he replied, "Our child is the only thing that matters, Anora. Not because of continued Theirin lineage. But, because it is half of each of us. A true blending of the two of us and will be better than both of us. Your safety, our child's safety, is the only thing I'm concerned with." He took her hand and placed it on her stomach.

She smiled. "Well, perhaps teaching you diplomacy wasn't such a bad thing."

He picked her up in his arms and headed toward their camp cot, admittedly better than most people slept in at home. "Time for me to give you another lesson in … mmm …" He didn't finish as she kissed him.

Cailan heard the guards outside their tent move a bit farther away as he began his lesson.

* * *

"All right, _mio capo_, you will, no doubt think me a _donna pazza_ … a … a crazy woman, but hear me out." Sancia paced in front of a rack of well-cared-for swords and daggers. Loghain nodded after sitting on a nearby crate, so she continued. "I followed Howe as you requested. As I neared this Vigil's Keep, I wondered how I could best infiltrate its high walls and assumed impenetrable defenses."

Loghain laughed at that. "Howe never listened when I told him to repair the many vulnerabilities I could catalog about the Vigil. He always relied on the Vigil's reputation as a deterrent. I assume you walked into the front door unquestioned?"

Sancia met his statement with a look of incredulous agreement. "_Sí!_ The gates were open. The guard … a single guard, Loghain! … waved me through. There were many men about, but none of them knew what to do!" She took a deep breath and stopped pacing. "But, that is not the interesting part of my tale. Howe got word that his son had joined the Grey Wardens. He is here, yes?"

Loghain nodded. "I spoke to him briefly earlier. He seems happy enough. A good move for the boy."

"Well, it was a heinous insult for our nefarious Arl! He instantly blamed Teryn Cousland and his daughter for forcing his son on this course and swore he would burn down Highever and then attack Soldier's Peak in retribution."

"You've seen this place, my dear." Loghain laughed. "You tell me if you think Howe has a chance at that."

Sancia only shook her head. "I was able to overhear many things. He is preparing to attack Highever although he has not decided yet when that will be or exactly how he will do it." She paused and waved her hand. "Actually, he has decided, but I will get to that." She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "He threw his own seneschal into the dungeon for questioning this action."

"Varel, good man."

"You are unsurprised by any of this, yes?" Sancia's eyes sparkled with anticipation. Loghain hadn't heard the best part yet.

"Sadly, nothing you've said surprises me."

She leaned closer. As taciturn as Loghain was, he did love a tale told the best way. "Once Varel was dragged from the throne room, Howe's anger was unleashed. He threw books into the center firepit. He threw vases. He threw armor. He took an old woman's portrait off the wall, presumably to throw it into the fire as well." She shrugged. "It was too heavy for him to carry."

"As with many Ferelden nobles, too many hours dining and drinking and too few actually moving." Sancia couldn't have put it better herself.

"When all of that had him staggering, he went to slouch on his overstuffed throne." She pulled a crate over and sat on it, mimicking Howe's actions. "Then, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small journal. He did not open it. Only threw it on the fire and left the room!" Sancia jumped up and clapped her hands. "Evidence! I could see the man on the gallows! Hear his whines of denial, that he had been framed!" She closed her eyes and waved her hand up to her nose. "Smell the sweat of a doomed liar and betrayer!" She turned sideways and pretended to look around a corner. "I was a breath away from rushing to the firepit and retrieving the book, when what should happen?!"

Loghain raised an eyebrow.

"A raven flew down from the crossbeam above." Again, she moved into a conspiratorial whisper range. "The raven changed, transformed, mid-flight into an elf!"

"What?!" She had his attention now.

"She was my height and coloring … beside the point, but good to know … anyway, she quickly took the book but did not transform into anything else." Sancia raised one shoulder. "I guess she could not with the book or she simply recognized, as I did, that the fool Arl spent no time training his guards."

"I assume you followed." This news was very interesting to Loghain, Sancia could tell.

She looked offended. "Need you even ask, _mio capo_? Of course, I followed her to her refuge about a half-mile away from the keep. Fortunately, I was able to watch her read the book. She became incensed! I swear she almost threw it into her own campfire. I told myself, 'Sancia, we must get our hands on that book!' Unfortunately, the elf also had powerful enough magic to create a barrier around her camp. Alas, I was kept from the book. When she flew off the next morning, there was nothing left of her camp, as if she had not been there. Poof! I marveled at this magic."

"Did you think to try to talk to her?"

"And, have her turn me into a bat or frog permanently?!" Sancia shook her head solemnly. "No, Loghain, I knew I had to get at least this small bit of information to you. So, I went to find out information through more … traditional methods."

"Knife to the throat of a guard."

"_Sí_ … well, not a guard ... a mercenary. The fool never suspected I could best him." She patted her sling. "Although, to be fair, he did put up a good fight." She reached into a small pouch and pulled out a letter. In it, Howe hired the Flint Company, a well-seasoned mercenary group known as ruthless and completely loyal to whomever paid them. Sancia pointed to a note at the bottom with figures and required manpower. "Howe knows his men are garbage, so he tried to arrange to hire this Flint Company instead. The target: Cousland Castle. The date? 'Whenever the Wardens pull Highever's defenses away.' You know what this means, yes?"

Loghain crossed his arms and sighed. "I do indeed."

* * *

Alistair didn't know how long Loghain's meeting with the elf was going to take, so he took a walk on the parapet between the main keep and the mage's tower. That tower gave Alistair the creeps, as if that old blood mage had left traps around or could haunt it even from the Anderfels. Maker.

He also didn't know whether to be nervous or excited about Loghain wanting to speak with him. He decided on nervous. Maker.

Not too long ago, Duncan told Alistair that his real mother was not a serving maid at Redcliff. His mother's name was Fiona and she was a warden, sort of, and an elf and a mage from Orlais. More importantly, she was alive! Duncan said he was going to write to her and ask her if it would be okay for Alistair to contact her. Duncan explained that she wanted a life for her son that wouldn't involve darkspawn or royalty. Well, Cailan and Duncan botched that pretty good, so Duncan wasn't too sure how Fiona would respond to his letter telling her that Alistair was a Grey Warden and heir to the Ferelden throne. Maker.

What if Loghain was going to threaten him because of his Orlesian … mage … elf … blood. Surely not. He hoped. That would be bad. Maker. He really needed to stop calling on the Maker.

"Alistair, there you are." Loghain's voice from several feet away almost caused Alistair to jump through one of the crenellations. "Sorry about coming up on you like that. I'm more accustomed to my armor announcing my presence."

"Teyrn Loghain! I was just about to go looking for you." Alistair straightened the front of his warden tabard and cleared his throat. "So, what did you need to speak with me about, ser?" It took a few minutes for Loghain to being speaking. Mak …. Alistair tried not to sigh or look nervous. Undoubtedly he was failing at not looking nervous, so he sighed.

Finally, Loghain looked at Alistair. "I'm unaccustomed to apologizing, Alistair."

Alistair was stunned. "Apol … apologize? For what?"

"Has Duncan told you how he and I met?"

Loghain was going to apologize for meeting Duncan? "Well, he mentioned that he was part of a warden group that asked my fath … King Maric to go with them. He said he met you after the last fight in the Circle … and, that you didn't like him very much at the time." Alistair cleared his throat again.

"No, I did not." Loghain crossed his arms. "But, I didn't much like Maric at that moment either. That escape into the Deep Roads was foolish and shortsighted … asinine and stupid. He could have died with no one to know what happened, which I realize is what happened anyway, but Cailan was only a boy back then."

"I suppose I wouldn't be a problem for you if he hadn't gone." Alistair wasn't certain it was a good thing to say, but he did. He was curious how Loghain would respond.

The teryn seemed to appreciate the bold remark. "Yes, you wouldn't have been born if Maric hadn't run out on his kingdom, run out on Cailan, to cavort with Orlesian Grey Wardens. I felt for a very long time that they were working with First Enchanter Remille, but Maric let the wardens return to Ferelden anyway." Loghain gave Alistair a half-smile. "Sometimes it isn't an Orlesian plot, but it's just safer to assume it is and be surprised if you find out the opposite."

He walked to one of the crenellations and leaned on the lower part of the notch. "I was literally angry for years, Alistair. I couldn't speak with Maric. I couldn't bear to see the fear in Cailan's eyes that his father would run out on him again." He turned, sat in the notch and crossed his arms again. "And then, after returning to Denerim from a long visit home in Gwaren, I found out about you." He shook his head. "I started talking to Maric then. Yelling, actually. He'd passed you to Eamon of all people."

Alistair felt a twinge of resentment and voiced it. "Arl Eamon did what he could for me. Neither you nor Maric ever showed up."

Loghain stared at Alistair for a long moment. Alistair was about to say something, not being one to handle tense moments of quiet well, but Loghain finally spoke. "I haven't ascertained yet whether Eamon did what he could for you or not, but I do know your father wanted to recognize you."

"He did? I thought…" Now, Alistair was truly confused.

"Cailan was older and secure in his succession by that time. Maric couldn't live with the knowledge that a son of his was being ignored. So, he and I rode to Redcliff to bring you back to Denerim when we discovered that you were already in Denerim, given over to the Chantry years before … because that Orlesian bitch of a wife told Eamon to do it. Maric was livid, but that fateful trip to the Free Marches was already planned. We delayed coming up with a way to get you away from the Templars until he returned ... which, of course, he never did. Then, I searched for him … and I forgot about you."

Alistair narrowed his eyes. "You never forget anything, Teryn Loghain." Was his mouth ever going to stop flapping? Loghain was going to throw him over the edge any moment now!

"No, you're right. I suppose that wasn't entirely true. But, I did have other pressing matters … some important, some not … that kept me from thinking about you, until Duncan asked for me to meet him at the Warden Compound in Denerim. By that time, Duncan and I had knocked heads enough times to give each other begrudged regard for our respective duties.

"Anyway, Duncan had watched over your time at the Chantry and didn't like what he was seeing. He knew he had to get you out of there. He told Cailan the entire story about you, ending with you being handed off to the Chantry by Eamon. Cailan came up with the idea of using the Warden's Right of Conscription to get you out."

"I was, sort of, happy there but wasn't looking forward to the next step." He shrugged his shoulders. "It was hard, watching others go on weekend furloughs to visit family and knowing I wasn't welcome anywhere else."

Loghain actually winced. "And, so we come to the part where I apologize." He stood in front of Alistair and looked him directly in the eye. "I apologize for Maric and for myself. He should not have abandoned you to Eamon and I should have let go of my anger and resentment and raised you myself." He raised his hand. "Spare me how horrifying you may find that."

That caused Alistair to smile. He tried to imagine how different he would have been with Loghain as a 'father'. Would he have been like Anora? Like Cauthrien or Wills? Instead of being at loose ends due to insecurities and doubt, he would have been wanted. Loghain wouldn't have made it easy, but maybe it wouldn't have been so horrifying.

"As for whether Eamon did what he could for you, I have a theory. Tell me, Alistair, why would Isolde insist you be sent to become a Templar specifically, not a Brother?" Loghain's intensity had become almost palpable.

"Well, a Templar would be trained as a warrior in addition to the religious instruction," Alistair mused.

Loghain raised an eyebrow but seemed pleased for some reason. "And, so, here is my theory: The Divine and the Orlesian Empress are closely linked. They make no secret of it. Where was safer for a bastard son of Maric to be stashed than the Chantry? Trained as a Templar, someday to take up arms against a Ferelden that abandoned you, backed by legions of chevaliers? Maybe even an Exalted March to throw more Templars into the mix?"

"I would never do that!" Alistair had to turn away but he did wonder if he could have been manipulated through indoctrination and lyrium addiction. He turned back to Loghain. "Honestly, Loghain, you see Orlesian conspiracies around every corner, don't you? Do you have any real proof?"

"Eamon sent a letter to Cailan, encouraging him to set Anora aside due to his feelings that she was barren." Loghain had to stop a moment and take a breath.

"They've only been married a few years! It has to be horribly stressful to be king and queen. They just need time. How could Eamon do that?" Alistair realized he was already questioning the man he considered a father-figure all his life. He was thinking things he didn't want to think about Eamon. "But, that letter doesn't prove your theory."

"Isolde also wrote a friend of a friend of Celene and suggested a marriage between Cailan and Celene once Anora was set aside." Loghain's jaw showed the tension he was feeling in saying all this.

Then, it dawned on Alistair. "I was to be the fallback plan." Alistair pursed his lips. "So, your apology was only because you could have known about the plot a long time ago if you'd paid attention."

"No, Alistair, I apologize for blaming you for the sins of your father. I apologize for discounting you." He put his hands on Alistair's shoulders. "There are still many lessons you need to learn, but I believe you will be a fine man. Duncan is damn lucky to have you and Ferelden is stronger with you as one of her wardens." He squeezed Alistair's shoulders, turned and left Alistair standing there, mouth open, wondering how this Loghain imposter got into Soldier's Peak. Wondering if he'd awaken from this dream now.

Maker.

* * *

**AN:** Thank you to _WHWH's_ reviewers, story followers and favorites!

_Lady-Cougar Trombone_, Loghain in my story has had a few variances in the pre-Ostagar debacle that have tempered him, such as a pending grandchild. ;)

_Judy_, thanks for the encouragement!


	12. Disclosures and Schemes

"I still can't get used to all that sky." Faren leaned against the corral fence next to the stable. He and several others were packing wagons and helping to get a caravan ready to head south to Ostagar. In a few days, Faren, Orich, Sereda and a few others were headed east to some place called Knotwood Hills to investigate a chasm that opened up there recently. The boss thought it might be a Deep Roads cave-in. Never heard of that before, but the topside was closer to the underground around here than in the mountains.

Sereda was frowning. "Orich told us to meet him here after breakfast for a riding lesson. So where is he?" She turned from the stable door to look toward the main gate. They both saw a familiar dwarf walk in. "Gorim?" she whispered and then grinned wide.

Faren frowned as the ex-princess of Orzammar ran toward the gate like some lovesick nuglet. He wanted nothing to do with any of that kind of stuff. He was about to head back to his packing duties when Sereda pushed Gorim away so hard that his grey iron-plated butt hit the ground. Faren grinned. Might be a good show after all so he ambled over and leaned against one of the few trees in the courtyard to listen and watch.

"Princess …"

"Warden Lieutenant." She hit him with one of the glares she reserved only for those who had really pissed her off.

"Warden … Lieutenant, then!" Gorim growled as he got up off the ground. "I just thought that your father dying would make you come to your senses and come home."

"Get out!" Sereda turned to the gate guard and the woman's eyes got huge. "Throw him and his companions out of the Peak. They are not welcome here now or ever!"

"Doncha think the boss might have something to say about that?" Faren knew it was stupid to interrupt, but sometimes stupid was fun … and he missed Leske. "Gorim was going to become a warden until he turned coward at the end."

"I didn't 'turn coward', brand!" Gorim spun on Faren so fast that Faren felt it necessary to pull out his two swords and drop into a defensive stance.

"That's Warden Brand to you." Faren corrected him with a smirk as he adjusted his back foot – a little trick Warden Salsher taught him when up against a sword and shield guy. He had to give it to the Wardens. They knew their stuff.

"Enough!" Sereda yelled. She huffed and glared at Faren. Just a little glare. Then, she turned to the guard. "Sorry about that. Please take Gorim's men to the mess hall while I take … the coward … to see Duncan." Even some of Gorim's group snickered. "Faren, you can see to the final details about the Ostagar departure this morning."

Faren nodded to Sereda. He had to begrudge that she deserved her quick promotion. After sheathing his swords, he got to work matching up the boxes with the list. He had to ask for help on some of the words on the list, but he was learning. Reading wasn't exactly a common skill in Dust Town, but Rica had already taught him the basics. Why did they have to call a dagger by so many names? 'Poniard'? 'Stiletto'? It was a blade with a pointy end to stick into the squishy parts of whatever was trying to do the same to you. Dagger worked for him, but some of the Orlesian wardens here had to use their fancy names for it.

"Damn Orlesians," he mumbled as he separated out the various blades by name.

Faren didn't realize he'd said that out loud until someone barked a laugh behind him.

When he turned, he saw Alistair with a grin on his mug. "Too bad Loghain's group left for Vigil's Keep a few days ago. He would have loved to hear you say that, you know."

Faren noticed four horses with saddles and bulging saddlebags standing ready. "Shouldn't you and Duncan already be on the road, too?"

Alistair's goofy grin was replaced with a frown and a sigh. He put up his thumb and forefinger with only a bit of space between the two. "We were this close to leaving and then Anders backed out because he didn't want to be seen in Denerim just yet. Something to do with a prank he played on the now Knight-Commander Tavish during one of Ander's walkabouts from the Circle." Alistair winked. "Tavish really has no sense of humor. Then we waited on Neria to pack up. Thomas was going along … and then he wasn't … and then he was … and then he wasn't. So, Duncan decided to take Daylen along so we could work on magicky strategy with me and him … you know, so I wouldn't be turned to charcoal or an icicle along with the darkspawn." He stretched his back. "Then, Daylen had to pack. Faren, we were in the front entry when Sereda marches in with Gorim and his small army." He sat on a large crate by the wagon. "Traveling with the Warden-Commander is a lot of 'hurry up and wait'."

Faren laughed when Alistair talked about the magic. "I guess we get Anders for our trip to this darkspawn sinkhole then."

Alistair stood and started to help organizing and loading the wagons. "Yeah, hopefully you guys won't need healing, but he's pretty damn good if you do. He's got a fairly good number of icy spells, too." Alistair was a good guy. Even-keeled most of the time, unless someone upset his idea of _what was right_.

Faren helped Alistair put a pretty heavy crate into the wagon. "Ancestors save Anders if he ever freezes my ass."

After a time, Faren noticed Duncan, Neria, Daylen, Sereda and Gorim heading down the steps. The dwarves that came with Gorim followed with their hands full of food. The new cook here was pretty good even though he'd never heard of nug pancakes. Faren nodded in their direction. "Looks like you'll be on your way soon."

After lifting another crate into the wagon, Alistair picked up his cloak and sword. "I'm not holding my breath."

None of them were yelling anymore. Duncan said something to Gorim and his warriors. The dwarves nodded and turned to leave through the gate. Duncan said something to Sereda and then the boss left with Alistair and the two mages. Sereda stood there a moment, watching everyone leave, and then came over to the mostly packed wagons.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Sod that! What's going on in Orzammar? I got family there, too, remember?" Faren threw his own glare at her.

"My father died in his sleep two days after we left. His heart gave out. Gorim thinks one of my brothers used Noble Killer poison on him, but they found his body too late to prove it." Then, he noticed the tears rimming her eyes.

"Would your brothers actually do that?!" Nug's balls! The Noble Caste was whacked! To be fair, though, he mighta thought of doing that to his own mother, but he would never actually do it. Probably. He began to worry about Rica and the baby.

"I told Gorim he had to be mistaken, but he said he checked the poison supply the morning of your infamous Proving and the vial of NK was missing. It was back, with no indication of being handled, when they investigated after father's death."

"Still don't mean your brothers did it, Sereda." When she only shrugged, he added, "So, Trian's king now?"

"No, the Assembly's locked." She took a deep breath. "It seems Bhelen's been busy behind the scenes making allies. Gorim thinks I could break the stalemate."

So, Rica might give birth to a king's son. Worse things could happen. "What did the boss say?"

"Duncan told Gorim that I was a Grey Warden now." She smiled sadly. "He told him our mission to investigate the nearby sinkhole in a few days was vitally important. We need to know what's down there and block off a possible Deep Roads route to the human capital in Denerim. In the meantime, he hopes to find an old warden outpost in the Korcari Wilds and locate a lost treaty compelling the dwarves to provide support during a Blight. With that treaty, I can walk into Orzammar and demand aid without becoming involved in politics."

Faren tried to choke off his laugh, but it would have killed him. "I don't know shit about Orzammar politics, but that just struck me as 'ain't gonna happen'."

"I'm afraid that Duncan doesn't know much about Orzammar politics, either. Sadly, neither does Gorim because he believed it."

As Orich headed their way with small horses and a stallion, all saddled and ready to ride, Faren didn't ask the question he really wanted to ask: What if Bhelen has Trian killed? Things might be pretty rosy for Rica then.

* * *

Fergus watched as his father read some documents that Teryn Loghain had shown him. They were headed to Denerim to attend the emergency Landsmeet about the Blight when they came upon Loghain's camp just west of the cutoff to Vigil's Keep. Loghain had been waiting for the Cousland entourage to pass by so he could stop them and share something with his father. After finishing the first few documents, Bryce looked at Loghain. "Yes, those are my words, Loghain … as dictated by Anora. Since you had been stepping down your authority, she thought it would be a good ruse to make Orlais think it was my idea. I thought you knew about all that."

Loghain frowned. "I was only told a few days ago, but I wanted to hear your take on it. You don't seem to agree with Anora."

Bryce sat back in the folding chair. "I told her those documents were extremely dangerous and could completely upset the fragile balance we're trying to maintain in the Bannorn if they became public, which it seems they have."

"Not to mention that my father's reputation is tarnished," Fergus mumbled.

"Not really, my boy." Bryce handed him the sheaf of parchments. "You'll see that most of the information is an accurate account of my meetings with Orlais. The only item that is questionable is the inference that I'm working to oust Loghain, and it is only an inference. Anora can hold her own in the Landsmeet with her father's staunchest supporters if it came to blows. Who handed those to you, if not Anora?"

Loghain took a deep breath and handed his father another piece of parchment as he said, "Please don't destroy this one when you read it. It's evidence."

Fergus and his father shared an alarmed look. As his father read it, Fergus could see his jaw move and could hear his teeth grinding. Fergus shot a worried glance toward Loghain. The parchment was handed to Fergus. Loghain repeated his request not to damage it.

"Loghain, I never saw that letter, much less signed it." Bryce Cousland spoke in an even tone, but Fergus could tell his father was angry.

Fergus couldn't help himself. When he read that Anora was to be set aside and that Arlaine was to be betrothed to Cailan, he burst out laughing.

Loghain took the letter from Fergus' hands with a scowl. "Anora and Cailan had much the same reaction. Is Arlaine that difficult, Bryce?"

After giving Fergus a 'not amused' look, Bryce stood. "Arlaine has been raised by two individuals who both fought, side-by-side in the rebellion to free Ferelden. I'm afraid it's put a bit of a ruthless streak in our daughter." He smiled at Loghain. "Anora is just as independent and ruthless, but your Celia trained her to be a lady as well. Eleanor regrets daily that she didn't spend more time on the gentler arts when Arlaine was younger."

"This letter is actually one of two. The other letter was sent to Cailan, signed by Eamon alone and put Celene forward as a replacement for Anora." Loghain held up his hand. "Cailan and Anora wish me to delay any action on that one for now, but I thought I should let you know, nonetheless."

Fergus pointed to the present letter as his face became serious and a bit angry. "Then, who forged that piece of garbage?"

"I am becoming more and more convinced that it was Rendon Howe." Loghain folded the documents and slipped them into his tabard pocket. Fergus could tell that his father was as surprised as he was. "I'm considering bringing Arl Howe back to Denerim for questioning, Teryn Cousland. I believe it would be best if I did this alone, but I will bow to your position in this matter. I do have another thing to share with you on a matter that you may prefer to handle while I handle Howe." Loghain raised his voice. "Sancia? Will you come in here, please?"

An elf walked in, dressed in finely-made dark leathers. Her dark hair was braided and looped around her head. She looked like a scout of some kind. She gave a small, but proper curtsey. "Teryn Cousland and Lord Cousland." Antivan accent.

"Tell them what you found out."

"Arl Howe has shown his colors with the documents you have seen." Her demeanor was professional enough, but professional what? "However, he has gone a step farther. He has threatened Highever itself, Your Grace, by hiring mercenaries to take it."

Loghain handed his father one more parchment. This time, Fergus looked over his shoulder and read it at the same time. Fergus turned to his father. "How do you want to handle all this?"

His father was barely holding himself together. Bryce Cousland was angry, yes, but also hurt at the depth of the apparent betrayal, or at the very least, overreaction, by Rendon Howe. Fergus agreed with Loghain that it was better for Loghain to handle Howe. Right now, if Fergus and his father faced Rendon, it would end in Rendon's death.

Bryce took a deep breath, stood and paced a few steps. "Fergus, take Gilmore and return to Highever at your greatest urgency. Set our defense plans in motion with Arlaine and Jarin. Your mother, Oriana and Oren need to go on a little vacation to visit the Harriman's in Kirkwall. I'm going to continue on to Denerim with the rest and alert the king to the threat to Highever." He looked at Loghain. "I've had to deal with Orlesians and Marchers and even some of the Tevinter recently, Loghain. Those letters about setting Anora aside could … possibly … be a plot to put us at each other's throats."

Fergus' fist hit the table. "Rendon's overreaction to attack without bringing the matter to you - his teryn - makes him a likely suspect for the entire thing."

Bryce squeezed Fergus' shoulder. "Discretion at this point may prevent him from following through, Fergus. With a Blight coming, we don't need to be waging a prolonged war in the north with Howe while the darkspawn take over Ferelden from the south."

Bryce looked toward Loghain. "If you can keep matters calm, it would be all to the better until we can prove he is the one at the bottom of this treachery or if it is a foreign agent. Arlaine has already written to Nathaniel about Thomas and the Blight and encouraged Nathaniel to return to Ferelden whether Rendon invites him back or not, so perhaps we will have a possible replacement handy if necessary." Fergus didn't miss Loghain's half smile of appreciation. "In fact, Loghain, if it won't make you too uncomfortable to do so, let Rendon believe you think it definitely is a foreign agent. Let him come to the Landsmeet as if he is not under suspicion."

Loghain thought about Bryce's words a few moments and then nodded. "As you well know, I'm not very good at subterfuge, but perhaps I can write it off to being in a hurry to return to Denerim. I'll go to the Vigil and speak with Howe. I would like Sancia to go with Fergus. She is an excellent scout and … well … spy." Fergus had a feeling that was her real profession.

Bryce nodded to Fergus. "Hide the family secrets, Fergus," he added with a wink.

Sancia smiled and bowed. "I assure you that I shall only be on the lookout for the nefarious Arl Howe's hired assassins and their secrets, Your Grace."

* * *

After a half day of riding, Loghain and his men approached Vigil's Keep. He asked them to spread out among the Vigil's soldiers and see if they could overhear any good information, rumor, gossip or otherwise. He sent Cauthrien with the specific duty of finding Howe's imprisoned seneschal Varel and interviewing him.

If only Sancia had gotten that damned journal Howe tried to toss on the fire … instead of some foreign elf mage spy. The only country who openly used mages in positions of power and influence was Tevinter. What could they want with Ferelden? He answered his own question. They think we're weak as nation but strong as individuals. Individuals they can mind-control to fight their never-ending war with the Qunari. Of course, it could have been a country that did not use mages openly.

Blast and damn Tevinter. Blast and damn all of them.

Duncan was right about one thing. Loghain needed to make certain the vultures wouldn't try to take Ferelden while the Grey Wardens were busy with the Blight. After the Cousland men parted and went their separate ways, Loghain had quickly finished a report and messengered it to General Kezel. He was the man who handled the day-to-day operations of Ferelden's armies. Kezel was also Loghain's hand-picked successor. He informed the general of every detail he had uncovered. Keeping Loghain's possible replacement in the dark about any single piece of information was folly.

They rode through the front gate _unhindered _all the way to the entry. The gate guard … the lone gate guard … left his post and ran up to show Loghain into the Vigil. Sancia was spot on. There were plenty of guards around, but they had no idea what they were supposed to be guarding. "Shouldn't you go back to the gate?" Loghain growled.

"I … uh … well, the Arl don't want anyone left in here unguarded." The man was ignorant as well as untrained. However, after a few moments of Loghain's glare, he bowed and left Loghain alone in the entry to wait until a servant went to fetch Rendon.

Loghain looked at the closed door to the Vigil's "throne room". Really no more than a meeting room with a posh chair at the far end. He gave Howe a minute longer and walked into the large room. It was a total shambles, including all the ash from the firepit dumped onto the floor, no doubt because Howe was looking for any remnants of his journal. Yes, if it was that important to Howe, the bird/elf/spy had absconded with quite the prize.

"Your Grace!" Howe came into the room and was stopped a moment by Loghain's raised eyebrow. "I … I must apologize for the state of my throne room. One of the servants put a log onto the fire that must have contained some pocket of sap or swamp gas and it exploded. Sparks everywhere. Quite the mess." He indicated a room on the other side of the entry. "Please, let us converse in the small audience chamber." Lies just rolled off Howe's tongue.

"As you wish." Loghain had to remind himself that he was not here to irritate Howe, only apprise him of certain details and get him to peacefully show up at the Landsmeet. He almost laughed when they walked into the "small audience chamber". This tiny room had a fireplace with a couch, two overstuffed chairs and a sideboard with various filled decanters on it. Loghain removed his gauntlets, laid them over the arm of one of the chairs and sat down. "If there's whiskey in one of those bottles, I'll take a small one and I suggest you join me. I have news to share you may not enjoy hearing."

To Loghain's relief, Howe only nodded and poured two small whiskies. He handed one to Loghain before he sat down.

"Cousland confirmed that the reports were real, but the part about me was created by Anora." Loghain very convincingly sighed. "She thinks she can play The Maker-Forsaken Orlesian Game as well as the Orlesians can."

Howe leaned forward, all serious. "But, Your Grace, Bryce may have just been covering his tracks by implicating our queen."

"Cailan and Anora were at Highever for Summerday. I got that from our queen, so it was verified. The other document was more troubling, Rendon." Loghain watched for any reaction carefully as he spoke the next words. "Cailan and Anora had seen the other letter, only it was signed by Eamon alone." He paused a moment. "Eamon put Empress Celene forward as a replacement for Anora."

Howe's eyes shifted as he thought of the best subterfuge and Loghain could see his forehead begin to glisten with sweat. This lie wasn't quite as easy to fabricate. "Your Grace, I ... I've been played for a fool." And, there it was.

Howe stood and paced as best he could in the small room. "If true, this is proof of treason. Could Eamon have penned both letters? Forged Bryce's signature to the letter I gave you?" He straightened. "Maker's Breath, did you show that to Bryce?"

"Yes. Bryce believes it is a foreign plot to pit us against each other. Since he is our ambassador and has to deal with these countries and their deceptions, I tend to believe he may be correct." It occurred to Loghain that he was becoming a pretty good liar himself, at least in omission of details. Anora would be proud. He gave Rendon a half-smile. "I don't think Bryce is about to declare High Justice upon you just yet, Howe." He shrugged. "I intend to pursue Arl Eamon's part in this, nonetheless."

"Shall I take from all this that you are not going to be giving the king more space to lead Ferelden without you around?" Howe got the whiskey and poured each of them another half-glass.

Loghain downed the glass and put his gauntlets back on. "That is correct. General Kezel is still the best man for leading our armies daily tactics at this time, but I shall be far from inactive." He stood. "You are coming to Denerim to the Landsmeet about the Blight?"

"Of course." Howe downed his glass and also stood. "We got the summons this morning. I'll be leaving this afternoon. I'm taking Delilah with me. It's time she found a husband." Rendon frowned. "Do you really believe those wardens? I mean, a Blight? At most, it's likely just a large incursion. Surely, it's just a ploy to prove their worth. I mean, they made my son a Grey Warden and now there's a Blight?"

"Anora told me that Thomas volunteered for the Grey Wardens." And, now came the test of Loghain's subterfuge abilities. "I believe it was a wise move to encourage your youngest to serve the Grey instead of the Chantry, as so many noble families do for their spare. No doubt he will bring honor to the Howe name in the years to come. Whether this is a Blight or, as you say, only a large incursion, we shall need enough Fereldens immune from taint infection to finally oust all those thrice-damned Orlesian wardens."

"Tha ... thank you, Your Grace. I appreciate your acknowledgement." Howe almost preened at the compliment.

Loghain glanced out the window. "No doubt, you should call back your heir as soon as possible. I'm certain you're going to want him to show his quality in the upcoming months of turmoil and possible Blight."

"I have started penning the letter to Nathaniel already, Your Grace."

It took all of Loghain's admittedly small degree of acting skill not to snicker, knowing that Arlaine Cousland had already sent Nathaniel a letter. "Unfortunately, with that, I must be on my way to Denerim. I'll see you there."

Howe saw him as far as the front entryway and then Loghain signaled to spread the word he was leaving. Cauthrien was already on her horse and gave a small pat to her own hidden pocket in her Gwaren tabard.

In short order, Loghain and his men were heading toward Denerim. It turned out that Varel's plea to Rendon about the unpreparedness of his men only gave Howe the idea that he needed trainers. Loghain's men had found inside target ranges and sparring rings, all in full use. The Flint Company wasn't going to do the attacking. They were training Howe's men to do it. Hopefully, Loghain's news would give the Arl pause in his plans. Highever had been alerted and Loghain had done his best to make Arl Howe think that outside forces were believed to be at the bottom of it all and that Howe was not under suspicion. Loghain hoped it would be enough to preserve Highever and the forces that might be needed against the darkspawn.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks to followers, favorites and reviewers!

_Lady Cougar-Trombone,_ it's fun to explore how actions and reactions might change based upon facts available. In canon, Loghain and Cailan and, well, almost everyone, are kept in the dark about certain things that may have vastly changed the outcome of events if they had been known. Maybe. ;)

_Judy,_ again, thanks for reviewing! Your words are a nice nudge to keep going. :)

_Thedas'Hero,_ nope Loghain doesn't have to be an _evil overlord_; however, in canon, he's operating in the dark with fast-moving events that would run contrary to such a man's comfort level, imo. I'm enjoying the "experiment" of what he might do, operating in the light, with time to react as things come up.


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